Old Haunts, New Beginnings
by Jenny7
Summary: It's been two years since he was kidnapped by Jigsaw, but Lawrence still can't forget the dark haired man he shared a cell with.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I can't take credit for Saw or the beginnings of the Lawrence/Adam love story. :) I just expand on it as inspiration dictates.

Author Note: Quick one shot…or more. I can't decide. Right now it's short and sweet though. Please review if you have the chance. Thanks!

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The snow falls from high above the tallest sky scraper and down past the fifth story window of the hospital where Dr. Lawrence Gordon stares out onto the massive accumulation below.

The snow reminds him that he is so very far away from the place that used to be home. It also reminds him that he is more at home now than he has ever been. He is thousands of miles away from his ex-wife, his daughter, and the warehouse that he nearly died in two years before.

Diana he misses. The others not so much.

He watches as a short, blacked haired kid comes running down the sidewalk and turns back only to launch a snowball directly at the other equally vertically challenged kid behind him. They laugh as the mess hits the other directly in the face and soon the chase is resumed with more snow being flung from both angles. He smiles to himself and thinks of Diana. She would love the snow. He and Alison have been arguing since he moved here a month ago. He wants Diana to come and visit. Alison refuses. New York is a dirty city and she doesn't want her daughter here. Truth is, she just wants to punish him for leaving.

He left because he had to, he tells himself. They weren't in love anymore. Even his kidnapping and subsequent amputation couldn't save them. In fact, it only pulled them further apart. He tells himself this is because it just wasn't meant to be. Or maybe he had posttraumatic stress disorder or she just couldn't love someone with a stump for a foot. Maybe it was all Jigsaw's fault. He tells himself this but, deep down, he knows it is because of another reason.

Flashes of the dark haired man sleeping in the very white hospital bed send chills down his spine. His hair is matted to his head, skin still clammy from the moment the fever broke, and his chest rises and falls rhythmically. Lawrence had never been happier than to watch that frail chest rise and fall from his wheelchair across the room. He moans every now and then and shifts slightly, but his strength has been drained and he is just barely out of the woods.

It was the infection that nearly killed him. The infection was caused from a gunshot wound to his shoulder. Lawrence still has nightmares about the feeling of that cold metal in his shaky hand.

He visited Adam as often as possible in the days after that, always observing. He never touched him, not once. He is a doctor and is not shy about touching patients, assessing them. Adam, though, he never could. The feeling of Adam's warm cheek under his palm still radiates in his memory. It sent feelings through him that he had never felt before, not even for Ali. It was fear that kept him in that corner and far away from his former cellmate, his friend, maybe more. It was the fear that maybe they were more and that if he did feel Adam's skin under his again he would never be able to let go.

The joke was on Lawrence, though, because even his self-imposed distance couldn't stop him from holding on nearly two years later.

Maybe if Adam had woken up, come to his room, touched him, things would be different now. Maybe Lawrence wouldn't have to think about him every day when he saw a mop of dark hair run by him on the street. He wouldn't wake in the middle of the night with an intense fear that his friend, or more, was somewhere out there and needed his help.

But things weren't different. Adam had never come to his room. He had simply vanished. Lawrence had wheeled in to see him one particularly gloomy afternoon to find that his bed was made up and he was gone. The AMA papers were on the stand next to the bed. The nurse, seemingly annoyed, informed him that his 'friend' had told her one thing before he left for good: "Tell Lawrence I'm sorry."

He instantly regretted not touching him. Because now all he has is that day in the bathroom – their brief and tearful embrace.

The kids outside run back the opposite way and Lawrence watches as they narrowly miss being hit by an oncoming car. He startles out of his thoughts and turns toward the hallway behind him. The hospital is bustling and he notices one of the nurses flagging him down. She is on the phone and it appears that he is needed immediately.

He has been in New York City for four weeks and it is everything that a fresh start should be. New apartment, smaller than the one in LA but Ali was always the extravagant one, new job, new life.

Yet, two questions still haunt him.

Where is Adam?

And, the other….

Was he in love with me, too?


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Adam and Lawrence. I just rent them.

Author Note: So I sorta have a thing for New York City and, I don't know why, but I always picture Lawrence and Adam living happily ever after there. Maybe I'm just a little strange though. :) Anyway, that's where my inspiration came from in this story. For all the Chainshippers out there - keeping the Adam/Lawrence love alive story by story.

* * *

There is a clicking sound that comes from the fifth floor walk up in a worn down building on one of many vintage streets in the city. It is consistent and spaced out with the occasional foul language that accompanies the frustration of fixing something that has broken for the tenth time this month. Most people would give up and invest in a new device to replace the antique, but not this man.

Adam Faulker sits in the corner of an organized mess of photography equipment with newly developed photos spread across the linoleum in a pattern only he understands. The device in his hand is a 35mm camera with many miles on it and a lens lock that simply refuses to connect. Without the lens there is no camera, Adam knows this, and the camera is all he has.

It might be dramatic to say that, yes, but there is little else that has any real meaning for Adam. There is his apartment, which is about two steps above the shit hole he lived in two years before in a city that is so far away now. He has a job now, an actual job with benefits and all the stuff that grown ups are supposed to have. He doesn't follow cheating scumbags around anymore. The last person he followed is the only person he ever wants to follow again.

Even in this grown up job, he still finds the time to sneak away and do some real photography. He even sells a few of his pictures when the cute blonde haired editor is working at the newspaper office. She has a crush on him. He can't remember what a crush feels like anymore but he pretends to reciprocate. It's all for his art and maybe a few extra bucks to buy a pack of smokes here and there.

Yes, he still smokes. It is a vice that he refuses to give up. Though, he has cut down due to the rising price of cigarettes and rent. New York is his favorite place in the world, but it sure as fuck is expensive to live there.

Three more clicks later and he has the lens locked back in place. It will last him the rest of the day and through two weddings where he pretends to be happy for the bride and groom, or -in one case today, groom and groom. New York is a progressive city that only reminds him more of the lingering secret that dangles over his head like a carrot in front of a turtle.

He was in love once. He was in love and let it go because he knew that it would never work.

He let it go and he moved on – at least that was what he tried to do. He moved thousands of miles away from the man he loved and pushed him out of his mind. He pushed all of it out of his mind. He thought if he could just leave him back in LA then he would never have to think about him again. So far away, and yet he still appears in his dreams every night.

Adam places the camera into his bag and loads the rest of his supplies along with it. He drops the bag onto the second hand sofa and reaches for his coat. One thing about LA that he misses - never having to be this cold. He loves the snow, sure. It is a beauty that only a photographer can appreciate and one of his favorite things to do, when he is feeling truly alone, is to take a walk through the park and feel the snow crunching under his shoes. The sound reminds him that he is present and has weight. He is not still writhing around on the floor of a dirty old bathroom with a chain clanking against the tiles because he can't sit still.

He still can't sit still, but at least now he has room to move.

Just as he is preparing to lift his camera bag upon his shoulder, he stops. It is his usual routine and he placed this photograph on this wall for that very reason. It is the reason that he can't move forward – start fresh. It is the reason that he can't imagine ever falling in love and having a wedding like the two guys he is about to go photograph.

Before him is the photo he took of Dr. Lawrence Gordon. It is not Adam's best work by any means. He is sneaking around a parking garage with the usual look of guilt that Adam had grown used to seeing on his targets. He was one of those scumbags then. He was the lying cheat that Adam was paid to embarrass and expose. That was Lawrence Gordon prior to the bathroom – the one that Adam did not know.

It was for this reason that he hated this photo so much. Still, he kept it up there next to his front door as a reminder of what happened to them that day. He can close his eyes and still feel the cold and clammy palm on his cheek. He only does this for a brief moment, though, as it always makes him wish for something he can never have.

In a split second he is back to reality and preparing to embark on his next assignment – the wedding. He may be jealous as fuck of the two grooms, but secretly he likes what he does.

It reminds him of the one moment when he felt truly loved – truly safe. Ironically, it happened in the exact same moment when he was more afraid than he had ever been.

It was the best and worst day of his entire life.

He says goodbye to the picture with a reverent nod and hurries out into the bustling streets of the city.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Saw, Adam, Lawrence – etc etc.

Author Note: Hey there Chainshippers! Hope all is well. Just want to say thanks for all of the reviews and I'm glad everyone likes this so far. No angst in this chapter, just fluffy goodness…for now. Oh and please continue to review….my birthday is in a couple of days and they say reviews are the best gifts….whoever 'they' are. :)

* * *

His name is there, in black and white. It's not very big nor would it stand out to anybody who didn't think about it every single day. It lies in the tiny caption line below a rather large picture of New York's famous central park. In the picture, men in police uniforms are looking seriously at the path leading into the once beautiful landscape, which now serves as a home to the cities growing homeless population.

It is a heartfelt piece about a man who nearly died in the freezing cold because he could not find a shelter that would take him. The man was one of Lawrence's patients during his shift in the emergency room two nights before. Even so, this is a story that would never have received Lawrence's attention had it not had those two familiar and dizzying words printed just below.

Adam Faulker.

Or rather, photograph by Adam Faulker.

It was an hour ago that Lawrence picked up that newspaper from an empty table in the hospital cafeteria. The edges were ripped and it had clearly been used and discarded by some other employee who was in too much of a hurry to dispose if it properly. There was a ketchup stain on the bottom corner and there was a crease going almost straight through the sacred photograph. Lawrence did his best to smooth it out before he gingerly stashed it in his satchel and ended his shift right then and there.

That had been at noon. It was now two o'clock and he found himself standing outside of the New York Times main high-rise office. Actually, it was more like loitering than just standing. Most people wouldn't just stand outside of the same building for an hour in the freezing cold. He'd already tried going in, asking for the famed photographer by the name of Adam Faulker who had taken this picture and did they possible know where he could get in touch with him. The receptionist looked at him from below her tiny rimmed glasses and appeared thoroughly annoyed. Even his claims of being a very important doctor didn't make a difference. The newspaper had no use for doctors, apparently.

Also, apparently, freelance photographers didn't make the list of phone extensions and office numbers.

He knows the chances are slim. If Adam is freelance he may not come in at all during the day. Maybe not for a few days or even weeks. Still, he is close. Adam has been on this property. He has been here which means that he is alive and, Lawrence can only hope, well. He remembers their conversations in the cell, Adam's self-destructive habits. He wonders if Adam still chain-smokes and if he has gotten back in touch with the family who he expressed such regret over.

In all his anger and desperation in that moment, he still remembers the sound of Adam's voice as he begged him to put the saw down. Ignoring his tearful pleading has been the greatest and hardest thing he'd had to do that day.

They could have both died that day – on a dirty tile floor too far apart to even touch.

Tapping his cane on the ground once, he smiles. He would do it again. He has no doubt about that. Touching Adam, even if only once, had been worth it. Knowing that he was alive, somewhere, smoothes out any doubt Lawrence had ever had about the bothersome prosthetic appendage.

He startles when he hears the sound of the double doors opening. It is a false alarm, though, as the blonde haired man marching in is definitely not his Adam. Three hours and four medium coffees from the nearby stand later, Lawrence realizes that it might be time to take a break from his stake out.

Funny how time changes things, he thinks. Now, Lawrence is the one following Adam - not the other way around.

Halfway back to his quiet apartment, though, he has another idea.

As he steps shakily out of the taxi and feels the sun hit his face, a sudden feeling of peace and contention hits him. Using the ragged newspaper as his guide, Lawrence walks the snow-covered trails, his cane securely in his hand, and passes by layered new yorkers walking their dogs and dedicated cross-country skiers taking advantage of the recent storm. He examines every tree and bench until he comes upon the spot that he is looking for.

The exact bench next to the exact tree in Adam's photograph.

Maneuvering himself around, he finds his way to just the right angle and stops dead in his tracks. Savoring the scenery for a moment, he allows the feelings to overcome him. He remembers back to the moment when they touched and the immense will power that it took for him to crawl away from the one person he wanted to stay with more than anything in the world. He pictures Adam, leaning against that rusty bathtub in his jeans and dirty t-shirt, looking just as casual as he if he were leaning against the very bench Lawrence is looking at now. Suddenly, a smile comes involuntarily across his face and it is the first time in a long time that he has been able to smile without force.

Adam has stood in this very spot and Lawrence can feel his presence with him now.

He is so wrapped up in the warmth of the moment that he doesn't even hear the voice call out from behind him. It isn't until the heavy footsteps are nearing his back that he snaps out of his dream and into a reality that, as it turns out, is even better than his fantasy.

"Lawrence?"

The voice is the same – rough and with a hidden humor that is always present. There is something vaguely different about it, though, in a way that Lawrence can't quite place.

He turns to see a ghost dressed in a black tattered coat and jeans. A simple black hat covers his head and pieces of his dark hair peek out in an uneven pattern that describes this man exactly. His eyes are the same bluish gray only more so with the bright white snow as a backdrop. Familiar lips are curled into a smile that Lawrence swears he has never seen before but loves immediately.

"Adam." It isn't a question. He knows this man too well for someone he's seen only a handful of times.

Adam suddenly appears nervous as he steps back and forth, awkwardly. He appears surprised and yet relieved at the same time. It is a confusing combination that encapsulates everything about two former prisoners reuniting – minus the chains.

"You're here. In New York?" He seems to be having difficulty putting sentences together and Lawrence can't help but smile at his fumbling. He puts more weight onto his cane, a nervous habit he has, seemingly, developed today.

"Yea, I'm here. So are you." Again, it is not a question. Somehow, someway, they have ended up together again. This time, it is thousands of miles away from where they used to be – both in distance and time.

"Yea." He pauses to fumble again. "Fuck man, I don't even know what to say..."

Lawrence finds himself smiling even more foolishly as their eyes connect. "Well that's a first." The tease comes out naturally and he is relieved when Adam smiles and cocks his head in response.

"Lawrence Gordon making a joke...that's a first too." They share a brief reminiscent moment before Adam breaks the eye contact and touches his hat with his ungloved hand. Lawrence notices that it is shaking and he wonders whether it is just the cold or the restlessness that he is so familiar with from their brief time together. He pulls the hat off for a moment and it drops from his hands to the snow covered ground. All at once, both of them reach down to grab the fallen icebreaker. Then, it happens.

Lawrence feels Adam's cold skin against his own and a spark shoots through him so intense that he almost pulls backward. Their hands grip the hat together and he looks up to see Adam looking back at him with wide eyes.

He knows, all at once, that he wasn't the only one who felt it.

Standing up, they hold eye contact. It is Adam that pulls away first, but only for a moment. His eyes drift down to Lawrence's artificial foot – now covered by a sturdy boot. They don't stay there long, though, as he eventually finds Lawrence's eyes once more. Lawrence forces himself out of the spell when he notices that Adam seems to be shivering again. He is palpating the hat with shaking hands and his eyes look slightly glassier than previous.

He feels the small smile return as he decides not to resist the urge this time. He loosely places the newspaper into his satchel and gestures in the direction of the city.

"It's cold. Come on, I'll buy you a cup of coffee."

It takes a moment, but Adam nods in response. He blinks a few times more than necessary and Lawrence pretends not to notice when he takes far longer than usual to pull his hat back over his head.

Collected again, and with that same distinctness to his voice that makes Lawrence wonder, Adam speaks directly to him with a new confidence.

"I know a place. I think you'll like it."

They start walking back towards the city – the sun dipping lower in the sky behind them.

It will be dark soon but, at least for tonight, neither of them will have to be alone.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them…except for Eric. I pulled him out of my head because I thought Adam needed a friend….someone had to get him through until Lawrence came back to rescue him again.

Authors Note: So this is my first attempt at adding a non-cannon character into AxL fanfiction. I figure that Adam had to have a life before Lawrence got there, right? No worries, Adam is still madly in love with Lawrence. :P As if I could write it any other way…

* * *

Two sets of footprints follow them from the secluded area in the park until they reach the newly shoveled sidewalks of the city streets. One set is heavier on the left side with the opposite print parallel to a perfect circle in the snow. The other set is evenly distributed but wavers around the sidewalk like the wandering soul who made them.

Even when the tracks finally end, the men continue to walk beside the busy street. The younger one feels relief to finally be off of the unsteady ground and onto a surface that will hold them. He feels heavy, suddenly. It is a weight he hasn't felt in so long.

It's almost as if he exists again.

And the only thing that has changed is the person standing next to him – walking next to him with a cane that makes him nervous with every step. He finds himself glancing over every few minutes to make sure that his companion doesn't miss a step and fall on the ice and snow of the east coast – something neither of them is really used to. It is after about his fiftieth glance over that the other man is looking back at him with a quizzical look on his face.

He quickly looks forward again and clears his throat. Fuck, he really is nervous. He can't remember the last time he felt so fucking nervous. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and focus's on the concrete beneath his feet. He moves to step off the next curb in a line of many when he feels a hand grip his arm and pull him backwards.

He looks up to see a car flash by in front of him and honk angrily. Collecting his lost breath, he looks back at the hand that is still wrapped around his arm. He follows the coated arm up until he reaches the person who he still cannot believe really exists outside of a picture on his living room wall.

He is looking at him with evident concern that creases his features in a way that only makes him even more handsome.

Damn, this was exactly the reason why he left LA.

"Adam? Are you ok?"

The hand is so warm on his cold arm that it emanates through him and suddenly his lungs have to work harder just to breathe through the feeling. He pulls back until the hand is gone and he starts to feel the cold work its way back into his body.

"Yea. Fuck, I mean - I think so." He takes a step back until there is enough distance between them. Thousands of miles was a good enough distance – a few steps barely covers it. He swipes his hand over his hat again except this time it doesn't fall off. He breathes in a long breathe of cold air and then chances a look back up at the man who has suddenly gained complete control over him.

Lawrence is looking back at him with a look of mixed concern and something along the lines of pain.

"You should fucking hate me. I left without saying goodbye – without saying anything. You saved my fucking life, cut off your fucking foot, and I left and I'm sorry. I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to say or do here." He pauses as the words sink into both of them. He never apologizes for anything -he never cares enough to. "I'm just…sorry."

Hoards of people pass between them as the light changes again. Lawrence goes from being bathed in red to green and suddenly Adam can't stand that he is disappearing into a crowd. He can't stand that he cannot see him clearly anymore. Shoving into various bystanders he makes his way forward until he is again within inches of the person who has been just a memory until now.

They stand like that for a moment- unmoving. Then, he feels something that brings the warmth back to his freezing and shivering body.

There is a hand on his cheek and a forehead against his and he has not felt more like a real person since he was crawling around on a bathroom floor two years before.

"It's ok, Adam. I'm ok. Everything will be ok."

It's a simple three sentences but it is everything that he needs to hear. Lawrence is ok. He didn't die in the hospital or afterward and he's not stuck in a wheelchair with no one and nothing. He is ok and Adam nods in acceptance of this. When he looks back up again Lawrence is smiling. They part reluctantly and Adam smiles, still slightly embarrassed at his childish outburst.

When Lawrence says nothing for a few moments, Adam raises his eyebrows.

"OK, you're kinda creeping me out here, man. Say something already."

Lawrence continues to give him the, increasingly annoying, smile with squinted eyes.

"This place that were going, do they have food?"

Pedestrians continue to push past them and one of them bumps Adam harshly, causing him to fall into Lawrence again.

"Hey watch it asshole!" It is his usual instinct and he forgets for a moment that he is with someone who may not approve. The other man gives him the finger from far into the intersection and Adam just glares. When he looks back at Lawrence he realizes that he is laughing at him. "What?"

"Nothing…you just really fit in here, Adam." He seems hesitant, as if he wanted to say something else but stopped himself. Adam lets it go, though, and finds that he cannot control the smile that forms on his own face.

"You want a true New York tour, I'll give you one." He marches ahead towards the open crosswalk, hands secured in his pockets. "Come on, old man, only a few more blocks to go."

The teasing continues until they reach the small hole in the wall that Adam calls a second home. Lawrence seems hesitant at first, but Adam assures him that they won't get mugged and soon he obliges and allows Adam to lead them straight to his usual table in the far corner. It's small, with two chairs and just enough room for their legs to touch under the table. The only light comes from the dim wall lamps that line the room. Music pours from the stage and Adam waves to the performer-who acknowledges his presence with a nod and a smile.

As they sit and remove their coats, Lawrence gives him a curious look.

"Who's that?"

"Oh, that's Eric. He used to play in the park when I first moved here. I took his picture and got him in the Times…now I get free drinks whenever I come here." Right on cue the server placed two beers in front of them and nodded to Adam before departing back towards the bar.

Lawrence continued to watch him, seemingly perplexed, as he paged through the menu in front of him. Adam studied his expression and smiled at this new behavior.

"Something you wanna ask, man? I'm an open book, I swear."

Lawrence seemed slightly embarrassed and Adam thought he might have even noticed the older man blushing. This only peaked his amusement as he waited to see where the conversation would go.

"He's a good friend I take it?" Lawrence finally settled on this question while peering into his menu. The lack of eye contact only confirmed Adam's suspicion and he smiled in response.

"No, Lawrence, Eric and I are not sleeping together. Thanks for asking."

This time Lawrence really is blushing but Adam notices a relief about him. Their eyes meet over Lawrence's menu and with a playful exchange and Adam slides his beer back and forth on the table – his restlessness kicking in again.

"Adam, where've you been hiding, kid?" Adam has never been more annoyed to hear Eric's voice. He closes his eyes and gives Lawrence one last smile before looking up at his old friend.

"Oh you know, the usual hole in the ground." He stands and quickly hugs the musician, all the time knowing that the man looking on is the one he'd rather be hugging. "You know, I get you a gig the least you could do is stop dressing like a homeless person…"

Eric laughs. "You're one to talk – when's the last time you cut that ratty mop?" They laugh together for a moment and then Eric's attention turns towards Lawrence, who is looking on patiently. "Hey man, I'm Eric. So how much this guy pay you to be his date tonight?"

Adam feels his face go warm and looks down to the floor, running his hand through his hair nervously. Anyone else he wouldn't care, but Lawrence he wants to impress. He vows to get his friend back for this. Reaching, he finds the courage to lift his eyes and see's Lawrence looking on with the same squinty-eyed smile as before. Fuck, he saw the whole thing.

Lawrence stands and shakes Eric's pre-offered hand.

"Dr. Lawrence Gordon. And actually I'm buying tonight so technically I paid Adam."

Adam tries not to look as relieved as he feels but by the way Lawrence looks at him he figures he didn't mask it so well.

Fuck, tone it down Adam. You don't even know if he's single yet, remember?

He mentally punches his subconscious for ruining the moment and then turns back to the men. Eric is looking at him now with a look of complete understanding. This is not the first time he has heard about Dr. Lawrence Gordon.

"Well, pleasure to meet you Dr. Gordon." Eric looks from Lawrence and back to Adam with a wide-eyed look and an approving nod.

"No, please, call me Lawrence. It sounds like you've been a good friend to Adam."

Eric steps back and grabs Adam by the shoulders before he knows what's happening. Adam looks at Lawrence and squints an apology without words. Lawrence seems to understand and appears to be amused by the situation.

"This guy? We go way back. He saved my ass more than I like to admit. Hell, without him I'd still be strumming for pocket change." The lights turn on and dim again and Adam has never been more grateful. Eric lets him go and Adam takes the opportunity to join Lawrence by their table again.

"Well that's my cue guys. Lawrence, it's been a pleasure." He reaches out and shakes Lawrence's hand again. Adam gives him a death glare and Eric quickly steps back and points to Adam. "Adam, I've got something in my song book for you." He mouths the words 'call me' before stepping back towards the stage.

Adam closes his eyes and tries to figure out how to recover from the disaster that has just ensued. Finally, with no tricks left in his bag, he looks at Lawrence and shrugs.

"He has social issues…too many nights eating out of garbage cans I think. Hey, speaking of…that…wanna get some food cause I'm famished."

When Lawrence laughs he relaxes instantly. When Lawrence puts his hand on his shoulder he nearly melts.

Fuck Adam, you are in so much trouble.

He tells his subconscious to shut the fuck up and stays in the moment this time.

Lawrence squeezes his shoulder gently and then speaks in the voice Adam has only heard in his dreams until now.

"Let's eat. I'd like to talk for awhile, catch up, you know?" Lawrence's eyes are the lightest sky blue Adam has ever seen. He connects with them and this time he doesn't look away.

"Yea, I know."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Lawrence or Adam. I do take credit for Eric and Randy…though they aren't nearly as adorable and my other favorite boys.

Author Note: Number five in what I am calling my 'New York Series". Or something equally artsy. Mostly fluffy bonding and romance so far. Don't worry, it'll get more R rated soon enough! Oh, and the song I envision playing in the background is called "Stigmatized" by The Calling. I recommend checking it out if you haven't heard it. It's a great Adam/Lawrence song.

* * *

In a dark corner in a modestly lit bar there is the sound of something being put back together. It isn't the same sound as when Adam repairs his repeatedly broken camera; nor it is the sound of Lawrence stitching a bleeding artery until it can safely pump life back into an almost dead man.

No, this sound comes in the form of light laughter between old friends who connected more perfectly with each other in six hours than they did with any other person in their entire lives. It is the way that Adam can't quite meet Lawrence's eyes and yet, when he does, it is with the most direct stare Lawrence has ever been privy to. It is Adam's foot that is constantly tapping on the floor and the way he plays with his food because sitting still is simply not an option.

Lawrence knows that his staring doesn't help Adam to relax, but he can't help himself. He never expected to see him again and he still hasn't convinced himself that this isn't one of the rare good dreams that he has these days.

It is all just too perfect. Everything down to the song in the background - a ballad with a voice deeper than expected from the slender man singing it. It isn't just a song - it is them and everything that they have been through in the past two years. It fills the small voids in their conversation with comfortable warmth and whatever awkwardness that might have been is now extinguished.

"So how come Diana isn't here, with you?"

It isn't what Lawrence expected to hear from Adam when he told him that he was divorced and that Alison was all the way back in LA. He expected anything but this question. And her name, how did he still remember her name after so long? They'd had one conversation about his daughter two years ago – he'd shown him the picture of his family and Adam had tried to keep him from the pain that was to come with the revelation of his daughter gagged and bound by a sociopath.

Adam had tried to save him from the pain for just a few moments longer.

He takes a breath before he answers – swallowing the more recent ache.

"Ali won't let her come here." Adam is looking at him with concern and Lawrence gives a small smile in return. "She's angry with me."

Adam takes a drink of his third beer that night. His eyes turn up to meet Lawrence's again and what is revealed is sadness that wasn't there before. He doesn't have to say anything; Lawrence knows what is trying to say. He feels his heart palpitate and savors the feeling of life inside of his chest.

This is what it's like to be in love and to have someone actually love you back.

Feeling like someone is finally truly listening to him, Lawrence continues.

"It's probably better for now anyway. I'm just getting settled in here. She needs stability. I can't give her that right now."

Excuses. He feeds on them. They allow him to get through the day.

He notices that it is he, now, who is playing with his food. Adam seems to notice this too and smiles a bigger goofy grin that causes Lawrence to give in and smile as well.

"What?" He asks it in an attempt to stop himself from smiling too damn hard. It doesn't work, of course, and Adam continues to look at him with a big foolish grin. "Say something, Adam."

But when he does say something, again, it is not what Lawrence expects.

"I can help you." He pauses and takes another sip of beer, setting it down harshly and causing a resounding clank on the tabletop. "Stability. I can help you with that."

Lawrence laughs out loud as Adam's eyes widen at the thought. He doesn't seem slightly phased by Lawrence's scoff and this only intrigues Lawrence more. He is like a kid who is trying to convince his parents that his scribbles are a Picasso.

"Stability? Really?" Lawrence pauses and waits for an explanation that doesn't come right away. The song changes to something more up tempo and Adam suddenly stands from the table. "Where are you going?"

"Piss break." He smoothes out his shirt, quickly, before backing towards the bathroom. Lawrence watches him curiously and with squinted eyes. "Don't move. I have a plan." He points at Lawrence and doesn't take his eyes off of him.

"Adam…" Then he is gone into the restroom with speed. Lawrence turns back around, a curious smile still engraved on his face. He chuckles to himself and fingers the beer sitting in front of him. Across from him is the empty chair with Adam's black hat sitting idly on the table in front of it. His eyes sweep back and forth once before he reaches forward and fingers the dark fabric. It is course and textured between his skin. Stretched at the seams, it has clearly been repeatedly worn to combat the cold conditions in the city. At the side there is one thread that sticks above the rest. One tug and the entire protective garment could fall apart and become a ball of useless thread.

His fingers loiter over it, gently, imagining dark locks underneath.

It is then that he realizes he would follow Adam anywhere at that moment.

He pulls his hand back reluctantly and just in time to hear the familiar voice behind him.

"Shit, it stinks in there. Ever think about lighting a match when you're done Randy?"

Lawrence turns to see Adam facing the bartender. The man is quite a bit older than Adam with an unkempt stubble encircling his neck. They seem to know each other as the other man just rolls his eyes and smirks at Adam's joke.

"I would kid, but then I'd blow us all up. All you bottomless brats drinking your pathetic lives away…"

Adam smiles in kind and strides towards the table. He raises his last beer into the air towards the bar tender and then towards his musician friend, who smiles an acknowledging grin in return.

"Cheers to that." Adam drinks the last remaining sip of beer and turns to Lawrence – a fire in his eyes that Lawrence has never seen.

"You ready, man?" The secretive smile is still displayed proudly. For a brief moment, Lawrence wonders if Adam is drunk. Maybe they are both drunk and that is why this feels so right because nothing has ever felt this right before.

Or maybe this is what happiness feels like.

Maybe this is Adam when he is happy.

Maybe this is Lawrence when he is happy too. It has been so long that he cannot remember.

He stands and takes his coat off the back of the chair. He watches, maybe too intently, as Adam slips into his own coat and pulls the ragged hat down on his head. Dark hair goes every which way and he pushes it aside just enough so that he can see straight.

"You never told me where we are going." Lawrence states, as Adam is already trotting out the door. He follows behind him and has to hurry to catch up as they head out onto the cold streets. It is nighttime now, just barely past nine o'clock.

Adam turns and walks backwards again, playfully, making Lawrence slightly nervous as they are quickly approaching a busy intersection.

"Aren't surgeons supposed to be patient? You'll see when we get there." Just as quickly, he faces forward again and Lawrence has to shove through a couple of tourists to get to him. They reach the crosswalk and this time he grabs Adam's coat to make sure he stops. It's a reflex, he tells himself. If Adam notices, he doesn't let on.

Just before the intersection clears, Adam turns towards him and their eyes meet again. For a very brief moment there is something serious in Adam's eyes, something that makes Lawrence drop his smile and return the sober gesture.

They are definitely not drunk. That only leaves one possibility.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Saw, Adam, or Lawrence. The story about Evelyn McHale is a true story that I took from a real photograph. Check it out, it's actually really beautiful.

Author Note: It's so weird to not be staring at a text book! Lawrence threatened to lock me in the bathroom if I didn't continue this, though, so here I am with another chapter. Lots of sex and foul language and the good stuff that comes with Adam and Lawrence. Rated T of course because I can't censor myself when it comes to these hot guys. I love reading reviews so post if you can. :)

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The view from the Brooklyn Bridge is vast and breathtaking. It is the official site of centuries of history from the very early days that the city rose from the ground and became the living and breathing place that it is today. The bridge stands steady and strong to join two entities that never would have met if not for its strong hands guiding them together from far corners of the earth. Two cultures, two neighborhoods, two people, brought together by one universal platform that refuses to give in.

That one bridge creates a connection that is stable even in the most lethal of circumstances.

And at the edge of the bridge sits a yellow cab just like every other yellow cab in the city. From out of this car steps first a younger man with darker hair and a black hat pulled down nearly to his eyelids. He stands on the curb and waits as first the tail end of a cane and then an arm emerges onto the recently salted ground. The blonde haired man finally makes his way out and searches through his pockets with his free hand. Almost teasingly, the younger man shoves a bill through the window of the cab before the older man can find what he is looking for. The blonde man protests as the cab pulls off into the darkness, leaving just two old friends and the massive landmark before them.

"I told you it was on me, Adam."

"Nope, I was the one who got you drunk and dragged you here. I take full responsibility for any financial implications."

Lawrence smiles and shakes his head. "For the last time, Adam, I am not drunk."

Adam likes this. He likes Lawrence's smile and the teasing that is coming more naturally than he imagined it would. He also likes the way Lawrence looks in those jeans and, fuck political correctness, he finds that limp increasing more sexy every time he see's it.

Look away, Adam, before he notices that you're staring like a pubescent boy.

"Yea yea that's what all drunks say." He smiles his smart-ass grin and waits for Lawrence to do the squinty smile he usual does when Adam does his usual sarcastic thing. They already have a pattern and it's only been a few hours. "Come on. We're not there yet."

He turns to face the bridge, lit up with lights of all colors, and begins walking towards the pedestrian ramp. This is his favorite place in New York and showing it to Lawrence is something that excites him. Just like with his photographs, nothing is as beautiful as it should be if it isn't shared. Eric came up with that, but it captures Adam so well that he steals it from time to time.

Lawrence follows in suit and Adam slows so that they can walk side by side. He feels a twinge of guilt in making Lawrence walk so much when, clearly, walking is not easy for him. This is compounded with an increasing need for him to show Lawrence everything about his life in this one condensed night. Because, as Adam, knows, everything can change in a matter of hours. Tomorrow is a new day and Lawrence could disappear into thin air and this night might be everything they have, just like those few hours were before now.

Adam stops when he realizes that he is alone and the tapping sound on the boardwalk has ceased. He is nearly to the halfway point of the bridge when he turns to see Lawrence standing against the railing and staring at something off in the distance. He follows Lawrence's gaze until they are both staring at the same thing.

"Pretty fucking cool, huh?" Adam hears his voice with a new twinge of hope that has faded from it in the past years. He has learned that hope does not typically end well for the one hoping and has, for the most part, put it in the back of his mind with everything else that he wants to forget. Now, it is creeping back and it is all because of one person who he thought he'd never see again. He knows then that he is completed fucked.

The silence lasts only a moment but Adam feels the familiar fear that comes with needing approval so desperately. He never asks for approval from anyone but, for some reason, he seeks it from this man. Adam is relieved when Lawrence finally turns his head and smiles widely. It is, quite possibly, the most beautiful thing Adam has seen in a long time.

"Yea, fucking amazing actually." He pauses and their gaze lingers slightly longer than it should for a couple of friends. "Come here." It is more of an order than a request but Adam finds himself happy to oblige.

Yep, you are completely fucked Adam.

He strides over with his cold hands embedded deep in his pockets. The wind is picking up and it is making for a more uncomfortable moment than he hoped. Lawrence, however, appears to be content with staring out into the skyline traced in light. Adam presses himself up against the railing and tries to keep his legs from moving around too much. His own fidgeting topped with the shivering of his cold muscles is making this more difficulty than normal. Spotting something, he pulls his freezing hand from his pocket and points eagerly.

"Empire State building. Pretty much one of the coolest landmarks around. Some of the dumb fuck tourists will say it's because it's the tallest building in the city. I disagree." He pauses to consider his words and Lawrence turns to look at him with a smile so sincere it causes Adam to blush. Suddenly, his mouth becomes dry and he struggles to find a way to express himself. "See, most people don't know that one of the most beautiful pictures ever taken was right at the base of that tower. This woman, named Evelyn McHale, jumped from the 86th floor and fell onto a limo parked in the street." He traces the path as he pictures the whole thing in his minds eye. "No one really knows a lot about her, but when she was a kid her mom abandoned her and she pretty much never saw her again...kinda shitty, huh?" Adam pauses as he feels Lawrence's eyes staring down at him with emotion. Knowing he cannot look back just yet, he focuses his own eyes on the tower as his pulse races. "Anyway, she grew up and fell in love with this guy and they were going to get married. Perfect romance or whatever, but she couldn't do it. I mean, her suicide note said that she thought she was too much like her mom and that she could never be a good wife to the man she loved." He pauses again to swallow the huge lump that has suddenly developed. Suddenly he is not cold anymore. "She thought he would be better off without her."

There is a long silence between them wherein Adam finds the courage to look away from the tallest and most stable building in the city to meet Lawrence's eyes again. Even in the dark, the blue is piercing and Lawrence seems to be pondering something. The cold begins to set in again and Adam feels his extremities shivering and, as he looks down to guide his hands into his pockets again, he is stopped by a warmer hand with fingers that cup his cheek and pull him back up until he is forced to meet the lips of the man standing opposite.

At first he doesn't move, afraid that maybe this is some sort of hallucination caused by hypothermia, but as he feels Lawrence's smooth lips glide over his own he can't help but respond in more ways than one. Making himself taller, he leans into the other man and pulls everything out from the back of his mind and sends it forward into this one kiss. Soon, hands are involved and groping at extremities and he has never been more frustrated at the weather as now when he cannot feel Lawrence's flesh because of the many layers between them. What started out slow and hesitant becomes heated and soon he feels like it might actually be reasonable to take off their coats and fuck each other right there on the bridge.

When they part it is with pained hesitation and Adam continues to hold tight to Lawrence's coat. Lawrence may have a cane but his balance is holding out far better than Adam's at the moment. The world seems to be spinning and all he can do is rest his forehead again the chest of the man he loves. He is afraid to open his eyes because this is where the happily ever after always gets fucked up somehow.

This is just a precursor to somebody jumping off of a skyscraper.

But, when he feels a hand comb the strands of hair across his forehead, he finally gives in and allows the world to come crashing back. He raises his head from its comforting spot and meets Lawrence's eyes again. To Adam's surprise, they are staring back at him just as lustfully.

"Show me your place?" Lawrence's voice is hoarse and Adam suddenly feels the need to loosen his jeans. He nods in return, not trusting his own voice to come out in anything resembling real words.

They don't let go of each other all the way to the street, nor in the cab on the ride back, and especially not when they get in the door of Adam's apartment where he fumbles with the door and spouts a few obscenities when he can't seem to get his fingers to work well enough to close it. Lawrence obliges with a smirk and secures the lock as they dive back into each other's arms and coats and hats go flying across the floor of the living area.

"Where's the bedroom?" Lawrence is out of breath and Adam is feverish as he is pulling Lawrence's clothes off at a speed that just isn't fast enough.

"There." He points to a door down the hallway that lies halfway open. "Fuck man, how many shirts are you wearing?" Lawrence laughs in between kisses and assists Adam with getting his own shirt off. When they are both bare-chested and breathing heavily, Lawrence stops. Adam fears the worse and can't stop the dreaded lump from forming in the pit of his stomach. Maybe this is the moment when it all ends.

But it's not. It's not because this is the moment when Lawrence pulls him in closer and touches his forehead to his just like they did in the bathroom two years before. This is when he unbuttons Adam's jeans and lets them drop to the floor before leaning in and kissing him aggressively again. Adam extends his hand down and does the same to Lawrence's pants and adds a step as he reaches in a grabs what he has been looking for this whole time.

"Adam…." Lawrence's voice comes out in a moan and he pulls Adam into the bedroom and onto the queen sized second hand mattress that sits on a creaky old bed frame. He props himself on his elbows and they continue to kiss passionately as Lawrence's hand finds its way down between Adam's legs. Fireworks explode in Adam's head and he loses all control.

Fuck the repressed feelings. Fuck the fact that they will probably never speak again after this. They have tonight. They have the last six hours and the few hours left to come before dawn. If this is all Adam can have, he will take it.

He feels Lawrence's arms around him again -gently and yet firmly guiding him onto his stomach. He turns obligingly and braces himself with his palms face down. He takes one look back as Lawrence places his lips on his neck and buries his face in Adam's hair. Lawrence encloses his fingers over Adam's clenched hands and whispers one last thing before they take the next step.

Adam does everything he can to not fall asleep that night. He finally gives in around three AM, a perfect nine hours later.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Lawrence or Adam. They belong to Leigh and James…film gods that they are.

Authors Note: Oh my gosh…if anyone hasn't seen Leigh and James' new movie "Insidious" go now! Leigh is so adorable in his light up glasses that I'm actually considering getting my own pair. :) I even did a little squeal every time he came on screen. My poor friends were so embarrassed…but anyway here's a new chapter. Angst and romance and some descriptive babble. Review if you can!

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It is a typical Friday morning in New York City, complete with the vast crowds of business casual citizens stampeding down sidewalks and across busy intersections and all with the same intention – to get from point A to point B and back again at the end of the day so that they can welcome yet another weekend. Horns blare at, what seems to be, nothing at all as the Statue of Liberty looks down upon all of them – a pleasant and contented expression upon her face. The famous bridge is jam packed with vehicles just trying to move forward another inch and remains strong and determined to hold the massive burden through it all.

Maybe it is the simple and yet rare moments, like the one it had seen the night before, that give it the strength to hold its arms up for another day. Maybe, like the two people who shared that moment, it holds onto it as something perfect in a place that is all together imperfect. Maybe.

All of this discontented chaos ensues outside of the double paned window of a small apartment just at the corner of a bad neighborhood and a 'not so bad' neighborhood. It is all its' occupant can afford but still reflects the beauty of the city at every photographic angle and has a view of the bridge out of its east-facing window that can be seen if he uses his most expensive zoom lens. It is enough.

As the occupant of this apartment continues to sleep soundly, his counterpart stirs and blocks the light of the morning with his palm. He releases a quiet groan as he looks around to figure out exactly where he is and how he got here. It is only when he shifts to his side to see Adam Faulker wrapped up in blankets and snoring lightly that he remembers every event that brought him to this bed. He considers it all for a quiet moment before deciding that he can smile about it. Taking another moment, he props himself up on one elbow and observes the sleeping man next to him.

Adam reminds Lawrence of Diana in the way that he sleeps. He has curled himself into a fetal position underneath the heavy covers and has buried his head underneath them as well, only leaving space for his nose and eyes to peek out. His hair is a mess, but that isn't a big change from the daytime, and his hand is clenched in a fist around the pillow that Lawrence had been using. Despite this posturing, though, his expression is of utter contentment. Lawrence studies this more closely, trying to burn this image into his mind, because he has never seen Adam look so peaceful. It is a relief, actually, as he had always worried that Adam was still haunted by their past. While Lawrence knows that Adam will never forget completely, maybe it is enough that he can have moments where he does.

Squinting against the increasing amount of sunlight in the room, Lawrence observes his surroundings again. The bedroom is small and barely accommodates the queen-sized bed. There is a door in the far corner that, he assumes, is a closet and the windows take up the majority of one wall. There is little furniture in this room and the only source of light, other than the morning sun, is the overhead fan. Deciding not the disturb Adam just yet, Lawrence shifts his body up until he is sitting on the edge of the bed. He realizes that he is only wearing his boxers and looks around again until he see's his pants on the floor in the hallway. He smiles at the memory this brings and puts his weight on his good leg until he can reach his cane. He stops in the doorway to pick up his pants and looks back at Adam, still sleeping soundly, before hobbling towards the bathroom.

The bathroom is small and, possibly, the most unkept room in the apartment. While posters and pictures adorn the walls of the bedroom, the walls in this room are bare and white and the only tinge of color is the black shower curtain. The mirror is clean enough but Lawrence is startled when he see's the toilet in its reflection. The lid of the toilet is slightly off and flashbacks of Adam saving his life cause him to forget where he is for a brief moment. He wipes his forehead with his hand and sighs with his weight against the sink. Reality overcoming him again, he shakes his head and, with a relieved smile, places the lid back into its intended position.

Fully dressed from the waist down, he hobbles out into the living area and observes the scene. It is, what can be described, as an organized mess. Photography equipment takes up much of the table intended for dining with black and white images spread out in an unsorted collage. He uses his cane to move to the table and looks down at the images. The first one he notices is a photograph of two men wearing tuxedos. Arms over each other's shoulders, they look truly happy. The next shot is of just their hands, with rings on each of their third fingers, holding onto each other gently with just their two first fingers. All of the images together form a picture of two men happily in love and taking advantage of their newfound right to be together. The beauty of the shots is enough to make an emotional knot in Lawrence's stomach.

It is not the two men's happiness necessarily; it is the fact that Adam took these shots. Not only has he developed a life after Jigsaw, he has succeeded in what he loves.

Focusing away from the two men before him, Lawrence looks up and around. The walls are covered with photographs, framed and unframed, of anything one could imagine. Over the couch hangs the picture he'd been told about the previous night. The musician from the club is sitting underneath a tree amidst the great circle of flowers dedicated to John Lennon. He strums his guitar and stares intently at the strings as he sings. It is easy to see how one photograph could have started this man's career. As he looks closer to the door, Lawrence see's several more pictures of other people in the same park. They are dressed in rags and range in age, gender, and race. The final picture he comes to is the only one in the room that includes the photographer himself. It is clearly Adam in the picture but there is something that reminds Lawrence of the Adam he knew in the bathroom. He is dressed in only a ragged and spot covered t-shirt and appears gaunt and frail. He is with the musician and they are standing in front of the lights in Times Square holding up, what seems to be, a $100 dollar bill. In Adam's other hand is a cardboard sign reading "Feed a starving artist. $5 a picture". They are both beaming with huge smiles.

Lawrence's thoughts race to determine if the picture indicates what he thinks it does, when there is a noise behind him.

"Did you get a chance to go through my medicine cabinet yet? Cause if not I can totally go back to bed for a few minutes."

Lawrence turns to see a sleepy eyed Adam leaning against the corridor of the hallway. He is fully dressed and his hair remains matted in the same position as when he was sleeping.

"Adam…" He pauses guiltily until he releases that Adam appears more amused than anything. "Good morning." Adam yawns and heads towards the kitchen area, where he proceeds to turn on the coffee pot.

"Morning is never good, trust me." He reaches up and has to stand on his toes to open the very top cabinet, from which he pulls a half full pack of cigarettes. He barely gets them into his fingertips before they fall onto the floor. "Fuck, see what I mean?"

Lawrence moves to help him, a natural reaction, but Adam is fast and quickly has them back in the pack. He stands still for only a moment and they lock eyes. Whatever was there last night has not diminished with the morning and Lawrence is grateful for this.

"You mind?" Lawrence just shakes his head in response. With anyone else he would, but he can't picture Adam without them for some reason. Adam nods in response and puts one in his mouth before heading towards the far window. "I read the warnings, thing is I hate mornings after. They make me fucking nervous as hell. I only smoke when I'm nervous anymore. Who can afford to be a full time smoker in this economy, right?"

He quickly throws on a sweatshirt, which dangles from a nearby chair, and climbs out the now open window. Lawrence follows behind slowly until he is leaning against the windowsill and watching. It takes a couple of tries in the cold wind, but Adam lights the cigarette and takes a few puffs before boosting himself up on the railing. This automatically makes Lawrence nervous and he slides himself out enough so that he can reach Adam's leg if need be.

"So, you find anything incriminating yet detective?" Adam is joking with him and Lawrence smiles in return, but there is something.

"Did you always live here? I mean, in this apartment?" He is fishing and he knows it. It's just that there is something that bothers him about that photograph. Adam takes small and quick puffs from his cigarette and looks out into the street below.

"No, took a lot of weddings to get to afford this place. Probably not even half as much as your pent house huh?"

His tone stings and Lawrence looks away as well. It takes all of his energy to pursue the subject further. He leans his head against the frozen window and attempts to meet Adam's eyes again.

"I've downsized." He pauses only for a moment. "That picture, of you and Eric. There a story behind that?" It comes out forcefully and he regrets it as soon as he says it. Adam looks back at him with squinted eyes that are no longer amused.

"I don't know, Sherlock. Really didn't take you for the jealous type." He takes the last quick puff of his cigarette and throws it off the ledge before he jumps down from the railing roughly. Lawrence moves in to make room and Adam swings himself back through the window with ease. He moves back towards the kitchen where he pulls two mismatching coffee cups from the cabinet. "Black ok?

"Sure." He watches as Adam pours two cups full and curses when he spills some on his arm. Lawrence can't help but smile at the natural clumsiness. He turns and begins staring at the photo-adorned walls again. "You know I don't mind about your past, Adam. I'm just curious. I want to know how you've been since…." Lawrence trails off and they both know what he means. He stops at a familiar photograph hung just adjacent to the front door. Reaching up, he moves his finger along the grain in the picture right at the spot where his guilty expression is barely covered up by his dark sunglasses.

He can't help but wince at the memory of that night and so many before it.

The silence lasts too long and soon Adam is standing behind him, two cups in his hands. He is staring at the same photo as Lawrence with a mortified expression.

"You kept it." His voice is barely a whisper but he knows that Adam hears. They are so close that he can feel Adam's breathe on his back. Mixed feelings course through him as he considers just how much he hates this photograph of himself, his old self rather. No wonder Jigsaw took him, he deserved it. He is just about to turn towards Adam when he is, suddenly, gone and the sound of glass on wood rings throughout the apartment as two coffee cups drops abruptly.

"I, uh, yea. I don't know why. Listen, uh, I have to get to work soon. Got a wedding at noon so if you need the coffee to go…." Lawrence feels a sudden chill as he turns to face Adam, who is now holding his head and running his fingers through his hair. His eyes are defensive but there is an awkwardness in his stance that gives Lawrence hope. His responding smile only seems to make Adam more defensive.

"Do you really have a wedding, Adam, or are you just trying to get me to leave?" He is not sure where this boldness comes from but it seems to work as Adam's stance falls and he lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Fuck man, give me a break here huh…" There is something about the way he looks at that moment that makes Lawrence want to indulge his request. Nodding, he moves over to the couch where he picks up his coat and begins dressing for the cold outside. He watches Adam the entire time, noting the hardness that returns to his expression as he prepares to leave.

Just like that he knows, Adam doesn't really want him to go. He will go though, because not everything has to be solved in this moment. He has the rest of their lives to break down Adam's wall.

After dressing, he moves towards Adam and leans down to kiss him. Adam tries to turn away, still a stubborn child two years later, but Lawrence doesn't let him. He ends up kissing him on the forehead because Adam refuses to cooperate any other way.

"I will see you later." He forces Adam's grey eyes focus on his own. They are angry, but he doesn't let that stop him. "That's a promise." And as he opens the door to leave he turns back for one last look. Adam is shifting from foot to foot nervously. Lawrence feels the need to add something.

"I work the afternoon shift today, two to ten, but the operator can always page me…you know just in case you need me."

Adam doesn't meet his eyes but nods in response. "Good to know."

Lawrence walks home with a new purpose in his step and stops only to make sure that his pager volume is turned on high.

Just in case.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own them. I only adore them and make them do naughty things with each other.

Author Note: Wrote this with a terrible headache…really it feels like someone is sawing my skull open here. So hopefully this is up to my usual quality. No hot sex in this one but I figured Adam needed someone to tell him to stop being so adorably and annoyingly stubborn. So Eric to the rescue! The boys will be reunited in the next chapter though so stay tuned.

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New York is a city of great love stories. It is filled with lovers walking down crowded streets hand in hand and gentle men and women opening taxicab doors for their mates. The lights from the skyscrapers reflect down upon the water and cast a glow not unlike the shadow of the full winter moon against the white snow. The entire city is cascaded in twinkling artificial stars where wishes are cast every night and lovers gather to witness the beauty of a jungle with concrete for grass and steel structures for trees. It is the home of Harry and Sally's last meeting and John F. Kennedy Jr. and Carolyn Bassette's short and happy marriage.

It is a place where love blossoms and dies – sometimes all in one gloriously fucked up day.

It is on this particularly fucked up day that Adam Faulkner sits on the end of his couch and tries to pretend that the previous night meant absolutely nothing. The cell phone sitting on the table across from him does not exist and the phone number to the hospital isn't anywhere near accessible or necessary.

He doesn't need to call there. He doesn't. Really.

He tries to pretend that the photo project he is working on is immensely important and that he must get these to the groom and groom as soon as humanly possible. Yes, they won't even be back from their honeymoon until next week but that doesn't mean a fucking thing. This is the day that he will stop being a procrastinator and he tells himself that this has nothing to do with the fact that he can't get Lawrence's lips and body and that sexy limp out of his of mind.

He picks up a photo of the grooms dancing together and holds it out in front of him so that he can examine it more closely. When he is satisfied that there are no imperfections, he brings it down and places it on the pile of satisfactory shots. He smiles when he thinks of that particular wedding. It was one of the smaller weddings he had worked, but the grooms had never stopped smiling at each other like drunk teenagers. Adam wasn't the romantic sort, but he couldn't deny that he felt a slight envy when he saw how much in love those guys were. It was like a fucking fairy tale complete with the riding off into the sunset happy ending.

Just when he had convinced himself that those didn't exist.

He closes his eyes in pain and shoves the photos aside.

"Fuck." He utters the one syllable as he drops his face into his hands and rubs his eyes until all he can see are multicolored spots. He pulls as much air into his lungs as he can and exhales a long painful sigh as his heart rate increases causing a pounding sensation in his chest. The discomfort reaches through to his abdomen and soon he is feeling the weight of something dragging his stomach down and causing him to feel nauseated. He is about to crawl to the end of the couch to sleep it off when something happens.

It comes out of nowhere and reverberates throughout the small apartment like a heated battle cry.

It is the sound of his Rolling Stones ring tone as it reverberates from the cell phone in front of him.

Startled at first, Adam squints in confusion and covers his ears to protect them from the annoying noise that just won't stop. It is so loud and it only aggravates the gnawing feeling in his gut. He just wants quiet. He just wants to be left the fuck alone.

Then, he is. The phone stops vibrating and the music quiets. He is in silence again. With wide unblinking eyes, Adam stares at the phone like a hungry dog at a just cooked steak dinner. It is so still, just like everything else in his fucking apartment. Everything is still except for his heart, which is currently racing even faster than it was before. He feels his blood pressure rising and his respirations quicken as something builds behind his eyes. It can't be what he thinks it is because Adam does not cry, he never cries. At least not since that fucking day in the bathroom.

When you've got nothing, you've got nothing to lose - a line made famous by the great Bob Dylan; one of Eric's idols and the man in the picture that currently hangs in Adam's hallway.

He closes his eyes and beings to recite the famous song in his head when The Stones burst into the quiet again. The phone moves along the table as it vibrates and nearly falls off before Adam can dive forward and grab it, nearly missing the table with his head. He fumbles with it anxiously and curses when he nearly drops it while trying to flip the cover up. Finally getting it open, he puts it to his ear and tries to hide the emotion in his voice.

"Hello?" He swallows whatever it is that is clogging up his throat and listens intently.

"Hey kid. Bout time you picked up. Don't tell me…late night huh?" Eric's tone is of amusement. Adam sighs and leans back onto the couch. He wishes he could hide the disappointment that he knows will be audible in his voice.

"Eric, hey. Yea, uh, it was." He winces at the sound of himself trying to pretend. Lawrence was right; he is a fucking terrible liar.

"Aw fuck. Meet me at the spot in twenty. Just got my check so I'm buying." Before Adam can protest the line goes dead. He removes the phone from his ear and flips it closed. Leaning forward, he takes one last look over the pictures. Gathering strength, he stands and pulls his coat from the rack – dutifully ignoring his usual touchstone on the wall next to the door.

Coffee. He can handle coffee. People who are in love drink coffee all the time – probably more than once a day. If those pussies can do it so can he.

It's a short walk to the park and, when he gets there, he finds Eric waiting with two paper cups and a guitar hanging from his back. Adam takes the one on the left, which allows for Eric to straighten the guitar to a more comfortable position.

"So, did you guys fuck or what?" Eric's voice is tinged with a friendly compassion despite the crudeness of the question. He leads their usual walk down their usual path. It is a ritual they can do in their sleep…or while intoxicated. The latter was proven true about six months earlier.

"Fuck you, man." Adam replies and takes a large sip from his cup. He pushes his sunglasses up on his face and blinks rapidly to verify that his eyes, and any emotions that may appear in them, are well hidden.

"Wait, so you did! That's so great, kid." He smiles in elation but pauses when Adam doesn't confirm or deny this statement. "That is great, right? I mean, you've only been obsessing over this guy since I've known you…"

Adam flashes a sarcastic smile and nods. "Yea, pretty fucking great. Except now he wants to get all cuddly on the morning after. Thought that was only a girl thing but apparently Lawrence has a few feminine qualities that I wasn't aware of…" He lets his rant continue until he notices that Eric is staring at him with a mixed expression of shock and exasperation. He lets himself laugh and tries to ignore the nauseous feeling that is slowly developing in his stomach. "What?"

"Nothing. Except I am calling bullshit." The wind blows causing Eric's trench coat to flap. "You fucking love him and you know it." He points at Adam with his coffee cup and continues to walk forward, a satisfied smile on his face. Adam squints his eyes in defiance and follows at a quicker pace.

"Oh, so you're Mr. Eharmony now. I see. So why the fuck haven't you gotten Brad Pitt to screw your brains out yet?" Eric just laughs and continues on his nonchalant stride as Adam walks quickly to keep up.

"Oh, don't I wish." He turns to Adam with a sudden new insight. "You know I'm actually thinking about collagen. If I had lips like Angelina he wouldn't be able to resist." Adam hides his smile with a scoff. He should have known that Eric would see right through his charade. They stop at their usual spot, a park bench that overlooks the flower garden where they first met – the tribute to John Lennon.

It is only when they are both seated comfortably that Adam takes a chance to speak again. Leaning his head against the backrest, he stares up into the cloudless sky.

"I fucked up, Eric." Eric doesn't bother to turn towards him or even make a glance in his direction. He is too focused on the place where the flowers used to live in front of them. It is solid ground, now, but there is a hint of a stem in the center – the first sign of spring. He gives a small knowing smile and nods only enough to get his point across.

"Yep. Sounds like." He stops to take a sip from his coffee as Adam lets out a painful moan. "Don't worry my friend, he'll forgive you."

The sky looks iridescent through the lenses of his sunglasses and Adam focuses on the bird that flies in, what seems to be, slow motion over them. He has a sudden wish that he could grow wings and fly away too. Sometimes life is just too fucking confusing.

"How do you figure that?" It comes out in a low and barely audible whisper as he tries to force wings to grow from his back.

"Well, that's easy. He loves you." Eric's voice is practically monotone in contrast to Adam's screaming inner voice that tells him to run far far away. He closes his eyes and listens to the all too familiar sounds of the park.

"Does he love me enough to know everything?" The memories cloud his head and he tries to wipe them away with another swig of hot coffee. He imagines the caffeine speeding to his brain and destroying his cells like a group of deadly sumo wrestlers.

He hears a sigh from Eric's side of the bench and swallows the fear of the coming response.

"Fuck kid, I don't know. But don't you think he deserves a chance to?" Eric finishes his coffee and places the cup next to him on the bench. "I mean, hell, the guy is a brain surgeon. If anyone's gonna understand your deranged mentally challenged mind it's him."

Adam flips his sunglasses up and sends a solid glare and a middle finger in his friend's direction to which Eric responds with a smart-ass grin. He pat's Adam on the leg twice and stands back up. Stretching his arms towards the sky, he looks back at Adam.

"So, when does Dr. Sexpot get off work?" Adam looks up at his friend with suspicion.

"At a quarter to none of your fucking business." He pauses when Eric laughs and tries to maintain his stubborn stare. "Why? What evil scheme do you have in mind?"

Eric turns to him and smiles, picking up his empty coffee cup and straightening his scarf. "I'm offended. Here I offer you all of this Yoda quality advice and you dare question me?" He starts to walk away and Adam gives him a moment before realizing that he's not stopping. Jumping up from his bench too quickly causes a splash of coffee to land direction on the front of his coat.

"Fuck." Adam swears in frustration as Eric laughs heartily at him. He wipes at the stain with no promising results.

"You're hopeless, Adam. Come on, we have to get you decent if you want to be Mrs. Gordon one day." He starts towards to the street and Adam follows not far behind, still wiping at the large stain on the front of his coat.

"I'm still mad at you, you know." He throws it in just because he can't give up that easily.

It is ten hours later that Adam finds himself holding two full cups of coffee, wearing a freshly washed coat, and standing at the hospital entrance freezing his ass off.

It'll all be worth it, though, once Lawrence comes through those doors.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own them. Don't sue me. Although I'm sure Leigh wouldn't do that anyway, he's too adorably nice.

Authors Note: Had this written last week, but I wasn't particularly thrilled with it. So, rewrites it was! Also, I want to say thanks for all of the reviews! They really keep me motivated to continue writing and it's nice to know others enjoy reading my Lawrence/Adam drabble as much as I enjoy writing it. :)

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There are certain traits that New York City is known for. Arguably, the most important of these trails is resilience. New York is a city that has fallen down and gotten up time and time again. There is a quiet and understated resistance in this city that has been nicked by bullets over again and yet still remains standing with its torch waving high in the air as a warning for all who enter. New York is a city made from steel and concrete with its people who shake their fists in the direction of any who come to destroy it. That being said, the emergency room at the largest hospital in the city is not unlike the city itself. There are the ones with runny nosed kids who scoff at the long wait times and demand better service from a hospital that is already understaffed. All the while, the gang members, rolling in with bullets through their abdomens, rage on about avenging the death of their brothers and giving their attackers exactly what they deserve. This eye for an eye form of justice is something ingrained from many years of standing tall and fighting strong and applies to most situations in the city – even the little boy who beat the other with a baseball bat because he pushed a little girl to the ground. The steadfastness of both the city and its people is palpable, especially when it comes to protecting the sick and injured.

It is this very protective devotion that makes the emergency room a scene of mass chaos in conjunction with the equally chaotic mass on the other side of the automatic doors.

And in the middle of it all sits Dr. Lawrence Gordon, staring at his pager with dark circles under his eyes and a drawn expression. He has turned the device off and on fifteen different times today in an attempt to make sure it is actually connecting him to the outside world. It works briefly, allowing him to receive several pages from within the hospital including the one for the fifteen year old with a brain bleed who needed emergency surgery. One hour later, with Lawrence's specially trained fingers in his brain, the boy died. It was Lawrence who had to walk out of the operating room with the kid's blood on his fingers to tell his anxiously awaiting parents the bad news.

It is never a good day when a child dies in your hands.

Now, as Lawrence is heading to the locker room to call it a night, the pager finally sings its tone one last time. This alert is for a phone call from someone who he thought for sure would be a skinny dark haired man with a squeaky voice asking him to come over after work.

It isn't, though. Instead, it is an unwelcome phone call from a blonde haired rail thin woman with angry saucers for eyes who happens to be his ex-wife. She also happens to be in a nagging mood tonight.

"Larry, we need to talk about the arrangement with Diana. When are you coming home?"

Hiding his exasperation is nearly impossible as he leans his head against the locker door. Eight and a half hours of waiting coupled with a death on his watch has brought him to the point of exhaustion. However, when he closes his eyes, he still sees Adam. He knows that Adam is stubborn; he knew that the day they met, but he thought for sure that Adam would call. He was so sure of it that he even planned the entire night in his head on the way to work that afternoon. It was going to be an easy night of catching up and enjoying each others company in the comfort of his apartment. He wanted Adam to see that, in fact, he was not living the lifestyle he had back in LA. He wanted to show Adam who he really was, and who he really wanted to be with. Then they would drink beer until they were in a daze and make love until they fell asleep.

Lawrence is a planner. Adam is definitely not a planner.

"Larry? Are you there?" Her voice grinds on his last stable nerve and he grits his teeth to keep from snapping.

"Yes, Ali. I'm here. I don't know what you want me to say." He hears the same whiney pain in his voice as he did that day in the bathroom. He hates that sound so much that he collects himself immediately.

"I want you to say that you're coming home." It is deliberate and clear. It occurs to him that she actually thinks she is going to get what she wants. Maybe it is because he always tried to give her that when they were together. Lawrence spoils the people he loves. It is something that he has always done.

Standing back from the locker, he turns around and begins to remove the white coat from his body.

"I'm not coming back, Ali. This is my home now." When there is no sound from the other end, he continues. "Is Diana there? Can I talk to her?" There's that desperate pain again. The thought of his daughter sends needles through his body. More than anything, at this moment, he wants to hear his little girl's voice. After a rough day at work back in LA, he would come straight home and hug Diana. Her little body and big smile would always make him remember why he became a doctor in the first place.

"Why? You're not a real father to her anymore…" Ali is angry and her bite stings. Lawrence closes his eyes and lets the pain wash over and past him before he speaks again. It comes out in a choked desperate plea and he hates it.

"I miss her." He pauses to take a breath and runs his hand through his carefully combed hair. "Look, maybe she can come and visit during Easter break. They have the parade here, I think she would really love it…"

"No, Larry! I told you, our daughter doesn't belong in that dirty place you call home now. I never thought you did either, guess I never knew you after all…"

The dial tone is all he hears as he stares at the screen on the phone for confirmation. Flipping it closed, he lowers himself to the nearest bench and buries his face in his hands. He remembers the face of the teenager on his table today. Even with his hair shaved off, it was clear that he was a platinum blonde by genetics. His nose curved just slightly to the left and his facial hair was starting to come in. He had the face of a boy who was, step by step, turning into a man. There couldn't be a worse time for his life to end.

He rubs his eyes until the potential for tears passes and then raises his head to look up at the clock. It is way past his shift end and the sound of the locker room door swinging open gives him the motivation to stand. He empties his locker and bundles into his coat, scarf, and gloves before heading towards the parking lot to face the brutal reality of a cold and lonely New York night.

"Hey, Dr. Gordon!" He hears the familiar voice and turns towards the nurse's desk before leaving. Annoyed and tired, he takes one look at his watch before opting for the detour to the nurse's station.

"Yes, Vicky? My shift ended a half hour ago. I'm on my way out." He knows he comes off as being surly and unpleasant at the moment, but doesn't so much care. She flashes him her usual sarcastic smile and he can't help but respond with a less than genuine smile of his own.

"Yes Dr Crabby pants, I'm aware. I was just wondering if that belonged to you." He follows her finger to the area outside of the lobby where a familiar presence is pacing back and forth and sucking on a cigarette with nervous energy. He is wearing the same outerwear as the night before and, in his left hand, he holds a Styrofoam tray with a coffee cup snugly fitted inside.

For the first time that night, a real smile makes its way to Lawrence's face.

"Yea, that would be Adam." He chuckles at the thought. Everything about that picture is Adam and it warms him inside. He senses his nurse still looking at him and turns back to her. Her eyes are wide in a teasing way and she gives him a nod of approval.

"Uh huh….I can see why you've been moping around all day now. He's a cutie. Better watch yourself though, seems like a troublemaker."

Lawrence laughs lightly at her remark and nods. "He's not so bad." He pauses in confusion, as Adam seems to be talking to himself. A passer by stops to look at him and Adam gives him a quick death glare while simultaneously playing keep away with the tray of coffee, holding it behind his back like it's a prized possession. The passer by quickly retreats in fear. Vicky raises her eyebrows at him in question and Lawrence can't help but give an embarrassed smile in return. "OK, so you might want to keep some bail money on hand – just in case."

"Only if you convince the higher ups to give me a raise, honey." She winks at him and he laughs in response.

"Deal." Lawrence looks back outside to observe the scene once again. Adam has dropped his cigarette on the ground and stomps on it aggressive as if it is an insect he is trying to kill. Thinking it is time, Lawrence prepares for the rescue. "Guess I'd better go get him before_ I_ have to put up bail money."

"Some advice Doctor?" He stops to look back. "Make him earn it this time. As my momma said, the boys won't want anything you've got if you keep giving it away for free."

Lawrence chuckles and readies his cane. "Your mom is a wise woman, Vicky."

Step by step with his cane, Lawrence feels a new motivation come upon him. As he reaches the doors, he stands and waits for Adam to notice. The younger man appears just as nervous from outside of the glass doors and is cursing to himself while fumbling with his clearly empty pack of cigarettes and the tray of coffee. All the while he shivers in the cold and struggles to keep the wind from knocking him over. It is a moment that Lawrence doesn't want to spoil, but he can't wait any longer.

Smiling, he takes three steps closer. When Adam still seems entranced by his cigarettes, he takes another step closer until he is beyond the usual barriers for strangers. Suddenly, Adam notices that he is not alone and Lawrence barely gives him enough time to comprehend before he takes two more steps past the boundaries until he has crossed the comfortable line for just friends and is so close to Adam that he can feel the energy between them.

"Lawrence…" Adam chokes the word out and drops the empty pack of cigarettes to the ground.

They are within inches of each other and Adam hasn't budged. Where there would be discomfort for others there is none because they have breached these boundaries before. At this level of closeness Adam cannot retreat from his stare and, for the first time, Lawrence can see the fear in his green-gray eyes. Another inch and they will touch.

Too tired to resist any longer, Lawrence leans forward and kisses him with just enough force to get his point across. Adam's lips are cold and Lawrence presses harder into him to warm him. Adam responds more this time and while it is quick it leaves them both exhausted with desire. When they break apart their eyes meet and Lawrence see's the same Adam he saw on the bridge the night before, the same one he saw in the bathroom two years before, the one behind the defensive walls.

"Fuck man, you really are good at that." When it is clear that Adam is incapable of moving, Lawrence bends down to retrieve the empty package of cigarettes. He places them in Adam's outstretched hand and lets their fingers linger together just a little longer than he would with anybody else. It is only when he pulls back that he see's Adam resist and regrets letting go so quickly. Adam looks down at the ground as he forces himself to speak. "Um…I just….uh…" Fumbling for words, Adam's eyes shift to the coffee cup in his hand, forgotten in the moment of passion, and he seems to have a light bulb moment. "This is for you."

The way that he extends the coffee tray so insistently reminds Lawrence of Diana and he smiles at the thought. At the same time, the thought of his daughter brings memories of the painful conversation from earlier and he feels himself losing ground again. Using his non-cane hand, he reaches out and takes the tray from the eager hands. It is only then that he realizes that Adam's are shaking just as much as his are.

"Thank you." He forces Adam to meet his eyes this time and, as Adam nervously adjusts his hat, Lawrence ponders his next words. He doesn't have to think long because what Adam blurts out next takes him off guard.

"I'm kind of an asshole. You know?" The words are in quick succession and Lawrence has to decipher them in his head before he can respond. Adam is looking up at him and waiting anxiously. Lawrence shifts his cane and finally smiles. He does know. This is Adam's version of an apology and a disclaimer all in one.

"Yea, I know." They lock eyes for a moment and Lawrence does all he can to make sure that Adam does know that he gets it and that he is ok with it, and ok with him. When the memories from the day run through his head again, Lawrence drops his gaze to the ground and tries to blink it all away. Even with the man he loves right in front of him, he begins to wonder how much longer he can ignore the dead teenager who haunts his thoughts.

"Hey man, you look like hell. You ok?" It wasn't what he expected to hear and it takes him to a new level of off guard. Lawrence isn't used to people asking him this question. Usually he is the one doing the asking. Looking back at the man in front of him, and the big gray eyes that look back with unwavering care, makes him realize all the more how much he doesn't want to be alone tonight.

Shaking his head, his response is barely a whisper. "No." All at once, all of his walls are crashing down. The rigid posture of the elite hospital doctor ceases to exist around this scrawny punk photographer and he is simply Lawrence Gordon, a man who has abandoned his daughter and killed a teenager today.

He hears Jigsaw's voice in the back of his head and resists the temptation to cover his ears. All in a days work, Dr. Gordon.

The next thing he feels is a cold touch on the fingers of his cane hand. He shifts his eyes from the ground to the hand and can't stop the small bubble of hope that grows in his stomach when he see's Adam's shivering fingers just barely making contact with his own. Even the smallest touch chases away some of the thoughts of the day and Lawrence smiles sadly.

Adam is awkward. He is definitely not a planner, unlike Lawrence, and he stumbles through life trying to figure it out as he goes. He has been through more than most people could even comprehend and yet he still retains the ability to love- both in his relationships with people, even complete strangers, and in his perspective of the world around him. This knowledge, gained from one night spent with Adam Faulkner, is all Lawrence needs to know to love him.

That, and the way he is touching him right now.

In his ten years being married to Alison, Lawrence has never felt more loved or comforted than in the light and uncertain touch of Adam's hand in this moment.

"Will you stay with me tonight, Adam?" Their eyes meet again with a common exhaustion, and a hint of sadness, between both of them. The mood is different from the night before. They are still connected, but in a way that can't quite be understood by anyone else in their lives. Only they truly know what Jigsaw's voice sounds like when it haunts their dreams.

Adam nods in response. "Fuck.… uh yea sure, of course. I mean…" The awkwardness is back and Lawrence can't help but find it slightly adorable and he bites his lip to keep from smiling too much. Adam scrunches his eyes shut and takes another breath as he gathers his words. "I mean…yes."

Adam takes the coffee back in his free hand, long since gone cold, and Lawrence leads him to the street to find a taxi.

Lawrence scoots closer and closer to Adam during the cab ride home and, as promised, Adam doesn't even try to move away.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own them or anything Saw related.

Author Note: Wow, it's been a crazy two weeks for me. I graduated from EMT school and will be testing for my license next month. I can't wait to start working in the field! Anyway, what this means is that I can finally concentrate more on writing again! Ergo, here is the next chapter. Angsty and fluffy at some parts. Thanks again for all of your reviews. They really do make me smile. :) Enjoy.

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There are nights in the city when the quiet is unsettling – when the dripping of the faucet reverberates through the air and into the ears of frustrated New Yorkers who place the fifth call to their landlord that week with no sign of the problem ever being fixed. Sometimes the sound of the tires splashing on the damp streets after a new rain is louder than the honking horns of the frustrated taxi drivers on their way to the most popular tourist destinations. The footsteps on the pavement below echo across the street and up until they reach the window of a sleeping child who is so used to every other sound that the mere quiet tapping of a man's rubber soled shoes on the way home to see his wife after screwing his mistress will wake them from a deep slumber and send them in tears to their mothers and fathers – fear in their eyes. Quiet is an unfamiliar demon to the city dwellers. It is a monster they must face with the upmost courage and it is only the most daring who can stare the demon straight in the eyes without shouting or cursing or running into a busy intersection to escape in chaos. After all, New York is a place for the chaotic.

The quiet is a demon that Adam has never been able to conquer, at least not on his own. It is usually in moments like this, when he feels the demon lurking in the shadows around him, that Adam chooses to run head on into traffic until the evil presence is unable to follow him any longer. Then he can be free, at least for one more night.

This is what Adam would normally do – if he were alone.

However, the blonde haired man lying naked in the bed beside him is a clear indication that Adam is not alone. He redirects his eyes every so often- first to look up towards the perfectly painted white ceiling, then down to notice his reflection in the mirror across the room, and finally to stop on the single teddy bear resting on the very shiny wooden dresser next to the bed. Ultimately, though, they always come back to rest on Lawrence Gordon. Lawrence Gordon who is propped up on his elbow and talking to him and is apparently under the assumption that he is listening.

Adam smiles. He has so much to teach Lawrence- like the fact that his attention span is that of a two year old after a couple of beers. Or, always.

"Adam?" His eyes are back to Lawrence again and this time he is expected to respond. Think brain, what was he saying? Something about that patient at the hospital. That's right, but what about him?

"Hmm?" He decides this is the best response for the time being. Lawrence shoots him an amused glance before brushing one of Adam's rebellious hairs out of his eyes.

"Where were you just now?" He does his best to pretend that Lawrence's fingers in his hair aren't making him horny as hell. This is accomplished with a sarcastic grin, as if by default, and a roll of his eyes.

"Space station. Have you ever had sex in zero gravity? Man that's gotta be hot…"

Lawrence's lips are on his before he can finish being a smart ass. It is a quick kiss compared to what they shared earlier in the night but it is enough for Adam to lose his train of thought. When they break apart, Lawrence is clearly waiting for his next response.

"Fuck man, you've really gotta stop doing that." Adam wipes at his lips in mock irritation. Lawrence just smiles back at him in that smug way that just makes Adam want to fuck him senseless.

"Nope. Not until you stop using sarcasm as a way to avoid talking about your feelings." Lawrence looks so amusingly serious at that moment that Adam can't help but allow the next sarcastic grin to appear along with an inquisitive stare.

"I'm sorry, I signed up to fuck a brain surgeon not a shrink. Now did I pick up the wrong doctor at the hospital cause I can go back…"

Adam takes more satisfaction then he intended in the feeling of Lawrence's hand on his arm, pulling him back into bed and against the larger body. Lawrence's skin is just warm enough to be comfortable and Adam mentally slaps himself for giving in so easily. He accepts the arms that wrap around him, though, and allows his eyes to close for a brief moment. Fuck, he is exhausted. He hadn't realized how much so until he is in this huge and comfortable bed with another man, who is now burying his face in his hair.

Lawrence is like a clingy chick when he is having a bad day. Funny, they've known each other for approximately three days and Adam already knows this about him. He also knows that Lawrence has a touch of obsessive-compulsive disorder as evidenced by the fact that he alphabetizes the bottles in his medicine cabinet. Just because Lawrence doesn't snoop doesn't mean that Adam doesn't. It's one habit he's never broken since his days of stealth photography.

It doesn't take stealth, though, to know that the Teddy bear his eyes keep drifting towards is the one Lawrence swiped from Diana's room before he left for New York.

Adam forces his attention back to the arms that are now squeezing him way too tightly. He swallows and closes his eyes, preparing to be serious for just a few moments.

"You know, you should fight for her. I mean, you're a good father. She needs you."

The arms relax slightly and Adam can take a deep breath again. He feels Lawrence's breath on the back of his head and chews his bottom lip nervously. He's never been good at this supportive counseling crap and he doubts that anything he can say would actually help Lawrence at this moment. With a heavy sigh, Lawrence speaks.

"I've thought about it. Honestly, I don't think I could win. My work hours alone are enough to make a judge rule the other way. Add then I moved across the country without her and, on top of that, the fact that I'm gay." The statement stings and Adam tries to hide it from his face, even though Lawrence can't even see him at this moment. "I'm definitely not the ideal father in the courts eyes."

Lawrence's voice is muffled and sleepy and Adam wonders if he actually realizes what he is saying. Hesitantly, he pulls himself forward and meets resistance from the arms around his waist.

"Where are you going?" Ignoring the hurt in Lawrence's voice, Adam continues to pull apart from him. He runs his hand through his hair, briefly, and swallows the thickness in his throat.

"Gotta take a piss…unless you wanna join me. I thought that was more of a girl thing but I haven't read the latest guidebook on being gay so I could be missing something…"

Reaching down, he picks up his pants and slips them on sloppily. He has to get out of this room. Everything inside of him is braking and all because of some stupid sleepy statement made by some guy he happens to love. Fuck, he hates feelings and love and all of that crap.

He has reached the bathroom door and is almost home free when he hears the sound that stops him every time.

"Adam…" Leaning against the doorpost, he squints until any evidence of pain has been scrunched away from his face.

The quiet scares him, but sometimes it's the anticipation of noise that's even worse.

Slowly, he turns to face Lawrence – who is now sitting up and staring at him with evident concern.

"I'm sorry." A small smile touches Lawrence's face and Adam feels himself melting. Fuck, there goes his stomach getting all fluttery again. "I didn't mean it that way. It's just been a bad day."

Adam meets the ice blue eyes and see's the truth. The truth is that Lawrence is someone who creates order in his life because the parts he cannot create are so fucked up and out of order that he cannot piece them back together, no matter how much he wants to.

Humpy Dumpy sat on a wall. Humpy Dumpy had a great fall.

Adam smiles and shakes his head at the silly rhyme playing through his thoughts. Picturing Lawrence as an egg amuses him even more and he gives in to the moment. Striding forward, he crawls over Lawrence and into the bed next to him. He hears Lawrence laugh a real honest laugh as Adam nearly misses kneeing him in the groin.

"What are you doing? I thought you had to use the bathroom." He hears the ironic humor behind the statement and ignores it as he settles himself underneath the covers again.

"I lied. Sorry. I do that sometimes." He waits for a reaction and when there is none he lifts his eyes back to the blonde haired man next to him. Lawrence is studying him with an unreadable expression. "What?"

Lawrence smiles back at him in the same way, Adam figures, he does when Diana does something cute and childlike. His fingers are in his hair again and Adam tries not to fall too deep into the warm sensation.

"Nothing." There is a long quiet pause where Adam's heart begins to beat faster and he realizes that even the traffic sounds outside have faded. The demon is creeping in the shadows across the room. Nothing good has ever come for these silent moments, at least in Adam's experience. "How do you know I'm such a good father anyway? You've never even met Diana."

The quiet is back again and the demon is drawing closer.

"I, uh, shit." He pulls away from Lawrence's touch and meets his eyes. He is a fucking terrible liar and there is no point in trying. "Uh…back when that cop hired me to follow you…well he wanted me to follow you at home too. So, one night, I did. " He pauses and see's no significant reaction from Lawrence just yet. He is waiting for more. Adam clears his throat and continues, focusing his attention on the fuzz he is picking off of the blanket. "You were…singing to her because she couldn't sleep. You both just looked so fucking happy, you know? Granted, I don't exactly know what a father is supposed to do but you looked like you were pretty fucking good at it." He pauses and meets Lawrence's eyes again. Lawrence appears to be deciding how to react to all of this and Adam feels the silence grow deeper and more threatening. "I didn't give him those pictures. I destroyed most of them. I kept one but it disappeared after…"

The silence is still there and it's getting closer and closer to engulfing him. Adam pulls the covers up farther on his body, until they are almost covering his face, in an attempt to block to oncoming attack.

But it never comes. All he feels is Lawrence's warm hand on the back of his now freezing neck. It pulls him forward and gentle lips plant an innocent kiss at the very top of his head. Lawrence lingers there for a moment and Adam moves towards him on instinct.

"Will you help me? If I decide to try to get her back, will you help me Adam?"

He knows there is no way he could be of any help in this situation. In fact, he will probably make it worse just by being there. Lawrence said it himself, Adam is just a reminder that he is gay and that does not make for an ideal father in the court system. However, Lawrence is asking for his help and it is usually the other way around.

Fuck, maybe he can pull off a lie just once more tonight.

"Of course, man. Whatever it takes, you know?" He adjusts to a more comfortable position and allows Lawrence to hold him even tighter than before.

And, just when Adam thought he would have to face the silent demon again, Lawrence begins to hum the same song he sang to Diana in Adam's favorite picture.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Saw related.

Authors Note: Next chapter in the series. It's springtime here so I figured it should be springtime for the guys too. Plus I got tired of them freezing to death all the time. :) Not much angst in this one, but I kinda like making them happy sometimes, they're kinda cute that way. Plenty of angst to come though.

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Spring in New York is much like spring in every other city. It starts out with the small buds on the man made trees that line the carefully carved out parks on city corners -the only rendezvous with nature the city dwellers indulge in. The air is suddenly not so frigid and winter coats are thrown aside in favor of fashionable spring attire and boots up to the knees that make clanking sounds when they hit the manhole covers. In addition, spring in New York brings about new beginnings to all of the residents who spend more time breathing in the air, still smog filled but with a new freshness that wakes them from their winter comas, and less time hiding behind concrete walls inside of tall steel buildings. The wind moves around the skyscrapers in a familiar and highly anticipated dance and strikes each person in a direct and deliberate wake up call as if to say what every New Yorker needs to hear sometimes.

Wake up and take it all in. There is beauty all around and love is in the air.

It is this very message that Lawrence Gordon receives, as the wind blows against him until his perfectly maintained tie is flapping like a flag of surrender. The snow has melted and a simple brown leather jacket is all he needs on this particularly beautiful day in the city. In the park, the grass is turning green and the trees have just begun to sprout leaves.

Life is returning to the city and Lawrence has never felt more alive.

He walks down the path towards the park and smiles as he recognizes landmarks that only existed encased in snow prior to today. He finds the bench where Adam took that picture, the bench where they met for their second time, and stops for a moment to admire the memory of it all. It has been two months since that day. Two months and he can't imagine what his life would be like without the wiry smartass photographer around to piss him off and then, shortly after, make him smile bigger than he ever has.

There is only one thing that could complete his circle of happiness, and she is three thousand miles away.

The sadness of this thought only lasts a moment, though, as Lawrence reaches his planned destination. It is a large open area in the middle of the park. Currently, it is filled with a checkerboard of black suits and fuchsia dresses with one white dress planted firmly in the middle. The owners of the suits and dresses are laughing loudly and dancing around in celebration of another love that has blossomed and matured on this spring day.

It isn't hard to pick out the one who doesn't quite belong here. He is wearing khaki's and a white button up shirt, open at the neck. A strap hangs, in place of a tie, to support the weight of a camera that is currently being aimed at a group of excited children. No matter how hard Lawrence tries, he can never convince Adam to wear a tie. He says he feels like he is being strangled. Still, this is as dressed up as Lawrence has ever seen him and it is something of a treat to see a side of Adam that is usually very hidden.

Lawrence finds a tree and takes advantage of the cool shade. Adam doesn't know he is coming. It is supposed to be a surprise. He worked a late shift in the ER last night and Adam has been busy, wedding season and all, so they haven't seen much of each other recently. While he misses Adam greatly, this has given Lawrence time to research his options regarding Diana. He has even found a lawyer who would be willing to take his case, should he decide to move forward with it.

He wants to see his daughter more than anything. He needs Diana in his life.

He also knows that he cannot be without Adam. He cannot go through those two years all over again and cannot pretend that he isn't in love with someone who is definitely not who everyone wants him to be in love with.

So Lawrence waits until he can find a way to have both. He waits against the tree until Adam notices that someone is staring at him and looks up from the group of kids he has been playing with for the last ten minutes.

Adam is cynical and can hardly get through a conversation without swearing. He is also amazing with kids and they flock to him like moths to a flame. He talks to them like adults and yet somehow they understand him and he understands them and they engage in conversations that leave Lawrence baffled.

If only Diana could meet Adam.

Adam meets Lawrence's eyes and now they are both staring at each other with big goofy smiles. Lawrence knows he must look euphoric, leaning up against a tree with his hands in his pockets and tie flapping in the wind. It must be a strange site for Adam, yet it doesn't stop him from sending the children away on a mission and striding towards him, camera still in hand. When he reaches the tree and Lawrence neither says a thing at first, they just stare.

"Are you surprised?" Lawrence speaks first and Adam raises his eyebrows in amusement.

"Fuck yea. You're lucky I didn't have a heart attack just now. Think that's considered bad luck? Your photographer biting it at your wedding…"

"Don't make me kiss you again…" Instead of responding, Adam grabs Lawrence's tie and pulls him in until their lips touch. It is brief but Lawrence still feels the tingling in his stomach – he is addicted to that feeling and subsequently to Adam.

"So why are you stalking me anyway?" Lawrence laughs and steps side to side awkwardly.

"I just wanted to see you." He pauses and considers before speaking again. He can look Adam in the eye through anything, but this subject makes him nervous. "And, uh, I wanted to talk to you about Diana."

"Oh, ok." Adam's stance changes and he pretends to fidget with his camera though Lawrence knows he is really just trying to distract himself. The subject is an awkward one since he first brought it up and he suspects that Adam didn't really mean what he said about helping him. Adam is not nearly as selfish as he tries to pretend to be.

Lawrence reaches down and takes Adam's hands away from the camera, forcing him to look back up at him.

"Adam, I'm going to try to get her back." The gray eyes, now dark with emotion, barely meet Lawrence's. "I'm going to fight for her like you told me to. We're fighters, right?" Adam cracks a small smile and Lawrence smiles back. "I just wanted you to know that, whatever happens, I'm with you. Whoever asks, the lawyer, Alison, the judge, I'm telling them the truth- that I'm in love with you."

"Lawrence…" Adam starts but Lawrence doesn't let him finish this time. He grips Adam's wrists tighter to get his attention.

"Adam, for once in your life will you shut the fuck up and listen to me?" It takes a moment for this to sink in but soon Adam laughs and nods in response. When he is satisfied, Lawrence continues. "If you want to leave I can't stop you, but I'll still be in love with you and that's not something I can change even if I wanted to." There is a long pause in which only the sounds of the screaming children can be heard. Adam is looking at him and waiting for whatever comes next. "So, I'm going to ask you again. Will you help me, Adam? Even if that means just being with me."

There is another long pause and Lawrence finds himself getting more and more nervous as the silence continues. Adam seems to be considering something and finally, just when Lawrence can barely stand it anymore, he speaks.

"Sorry, am I allowed to talk now? Cause you didn't clarify how long I had to shut the fuck up so…" Lawrence feels the relief wash over him as the sarcastic tone rings in his ears. Adam smiles at him and moves forward until only the camera is between them. "I love you too, man. If you want me around I'm here. I can probably even kick the judges ass or…mysteriously find some obscene photos of him and his secretary…"

Laughing, Lawrence reaches out and pulls him in for another quick kiss. "I'll keep that in mind." He pauses and locks eyes with Adam, making sure he understands. "Thank you."

Their moment is broken up by a group of kids who proudly gather around Adam.

"Mr. Adam we found it!" One of them shouts loudly and holds an object in front of him with a look of complete satisfaction. Adam laughs as he kneels down and looks at the small toad in the kid's hand.

"Hey little man, you actually found one." Adam seems just as surprised and Lawrence shakes his head, still amazed. "You guys are good."

"Is he big enough to scare the asshole who flipped you off for taking his picture?" The kid on the left asks and Adam looks up at Lawrence, feigning innocence.

"Looks like that asshole will get what he deserves, right Mr. Adam?" Lawrence can't help but mock the situation and Adam sends his best 'fuck you' glare back at him.

"Uh…yea. Come on guys, Mr. Adam's gotta get back to work before Mr. Asshole fires his ass." Adam sends the kids towards the wedding first and looks back at Lawrence one last time. "Chinese tonight?"

Lawrence smiles back and slips his hands into his pocket. "Sounds perfect. I'll see if they have frog legs…"

Adam makes eye contact one last time as he discreetly flips Lawrence off and hurries to catch up with the kids.

Lawrence heads back home, looking forward to the day when Diana will meet Adam and fall in love with him too.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Saw related. Eric is a product of my imagination.

Author Note: Eric is back! It's been too long since I wrote him and, I have to say, I kinda missed the guy. :P Adam is trying to help Lawrence out and Eric plays devils advocate. No Adam/Lawrence interaction in this one but I'm planning plenty in the next chapter.

* * *

The John F. Kennedy international airport in New York is one of the busiest airports in the country. With over fifty thousand passengers passing back and forth from state to state, country to country it follows a constant hectic pursuit of everything from business deals to reunions to new adventures. Nowhere else in the world can one here the elegant sounds of the French accent in combination with a haggard New York drawl as two passengers argue over who was saving the last seat left in the terminal. A man with a Nigerian tone bickers with his wife over whether ten American dollars is too much for a neck pillow that will help her to be more comfortable on the long flight back to their country. People on cell phones converse in languages all their own as they express their deep hearted regret that they still have thousands of miles and many hours to go until they can finally get to a place they call home. JFK, as it is known to the New Yorkers, is a living and breathing organism all on its own- supporting life of all kinds and feeding off of the energy like a virus from its host.

And within this vital shell in one lonely terminal sit two city dwellers impatiently waiting to be released from its tightly wound grasp.

"Can we just put it on record right now that I object to this?"

The voice comes from a row of orange plastic chairs where only a couple of worn sneakers stick out at one end and a tuft of blondish brown hair at the other. From the top a guitar neck is visible with four fingers that work the strings like an expert. The familiar sounds of dueling banjos echo throughout the terminal as a young dark haired man rolls his eyes from the row of chairs opposite, his back to the musician. The same man stands up and puts his camera aside so that he can gesture to the absent crowd around them. He clears his throat before speaking.

"Let it be known to everyone here at JFK that my adorably quirky yet self righteous friend, Eric, rejects to my trying to help my boyfriend get his kid back." He stops to take a minimal bow before returning to his seat. "Done."

Eric sits upright from the row of chairs and narrowly misses hitting Adam in the head with his guitar. Adam ducks away just in time and shoots an annoyed glare in the other mans direction.

"Oh that's your plan, knock me out and drag me back to the city." He pauses and looks back down at his camera. "See, if you were really smart about it you would have dropped some fucking roofies in that beer I had earlier…"

"Ha ha you amuse me so." Eric taunts as he turns around to face the back of Adam's head. "All I'm saying is that if Larry wanted your help he would have asked for it."

Adam stops playing with his camera for a moment and turns towards his friend.

"Oh, is that all? Because you've been saying a lot more than that for the last hour…and the entire cab ride here." He sighs and looks around at the people now beginning to crowd around the gate. "Look, I don't know what else to do ok? This whole thing…it's not going well and he's not going to win. If he doesn't get Diana he's going to be devastated and…I just can't fucking let that happen again." What he doesn't say is what is most paramount- _And it's all because of me. _

Eric looks up from his guitar and meets Adam's clearly sorrowful eyes.

"I get that. I do, kid. But do you really think going behind his back and tailing his ex is gonna help?" Adam shrugs and toys with his camera again.

"Who knows, maybe?" He scoffs under his breath as he remembers his days as a private investigator. He probably helped more people win custody battles with his pictures than all the scumbag divorce lawyers in LA. "It's worked before."

There is a short silence in which a flight that is not Adam's is announced overhead. Adam looks out the window to see that his plane is still not in. Patience has never been one of his virtues, especially when he is already nervous as hell.

"I have an idea…" It's said quietly, as if Eric is testing his boundaries one last time. He doesn't look up from the guitar and instead continues to play the same chords that are grinding on Adam's nerves like power drills.

Adam turns around suddenly and frightens the older woman who has seated herself in the row in front of him.

"Really, Oprah? You've got another idea? Well by all means please share this infinite wisdom because I'm clearly the fucking idiot here…" The older woman across from them looks up and glares in annoyance. Eric looks at her apologetically and speaks in a calm manner.

"Kids these days…" Adam continues to look on as Eric leans in towards him and speaks through his teeth. "What I was going to say before your Charlie Sheen moment there…was that maybe you should talk to Alison."

Adam rolls his eyes and laughs out loud at the comment.

"Great idea buddy, except it was mine first." When Eric looks puzzled Adam continues. "Why the fuck do you think I'm going back to LA?"

"Oh, I'm sorry was I speaking Norwegian again? See, you're going to stalk Alison. That may rhyme with 'talk', but that doesn't mean it's the same thing."

They are back to back in the chairs again with heads resting against each other. Adam crosses his arms in defiance. Stubborn to the last punch, Adam tries his best not to look like he is giving in to his friends advice.

"Fine. What do you think I should say in the few seconds before she hangs up on me and calls the cops?"

Eric strums on his guitar again in an upbeat tone that works to calm Adam's nerves. He even allows himself to take a longer breath than normal and dwells in the verbal silence before his friend speaks again.

"Say what you need to say. Tell her why Larry is a good dad. Tell her about the moment you realized that he was."

With the music playing the background, Adam looks down at the camera bag sitting between his feet on the floor. His camera has been securely packed and is ready for its next assignment but, for the first time that day, Adam is not. Reaching down, he pulls the bag up and onto the chair next to him. He reaches inside and bypasses his lens and film canisters to find something else that he has completely forgotten about until this very moment.

Way down in the bottom, under a secret compartment that he carved out himself over two years before, lies a picture of a father and daughter. The father is telling his daughter a bedtime story and the daughter, clutching her teddy bear the entire time, is looking on with wide eyes and a huge happy smile.

That guy is a good dad.

It was all Adam could think on the day he took the picture because he didn't know who that guy was yet. That was before he got locked in a bathroom with him.

Adam pulls the picture out and holds it in front of his face, studying it at every angle. It's almost like a dream. He never thought he would see this picture again. He thought that Jigsaw had taken it just like he'd taken everything else in his life. In photography there is a rule about copying that Adam never fails to follow – always keep a copy in a place where not even you can find it right away.

"Adam? You still with me, kid?" Eric asks from behind him. He had clearly been expecting a sarcastic comeback by now.

Adam smiles to himself as he hears his boarding being announced overhead.

"A picture is worth a thousand words…" Abruptly he stands and picks his bags up from the ground. Eric looks on with an expression of confusion as the soothing guitar music grinds to an abrupt halt.

"This is true…but you know the plane is that way, right?" Adam turns around to see his friend still sitting in the terminal and pointing towards the large aircraft outside of the window.

"Just shut the fuck up and walk, Eric." Adam shouts from his new position several feet away from their chairs. Eric continues to look on in amusement but does not budge. "You know 'walk'…rhymes with 'talk' and 'stalk' except it's nothing like either of them? Come on, I'll pick you up an English dictionary on the way out."

Eric gives a humored smirk as he secures his guitar to his shoulder and stands to follow. "I object to your smartass banter!" Adam continues to push through the crowd with a new motivation.

Eric pauses to take one last look at the old woman in the seat opposite, who is currently glaring at them both simultaneously. "Can you believe his generation is going to run the country one day? Armageddon is upon us…"


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own the Saw boys.

Author Note: It's been a looong weekend for me. I finally found time to sit down and complete this though. I've been making this fic less angsty and more fluffy recently, but I think that's to balance out the other that I'm currently working on. Besides, I kind of like seeing them happy. :) Even if its just for a few chapters before things get all angsty again.

* * *

Summertime in New York comes on suddenly and without forgiveness. One day the city dwellers are enjoying rainy days and carrying umbrellas that create a hodgepodge of designs when looked at from the sky – like a quilt made from the very fabric of the city itself. The very next day the rain departs and the sun rises over the city like a fireball sucking up the puddles and causing the many weary New Yorkers to pull out their sunglasses and put away their rain boots in favor of sandals and bare feet. It is hydrant season and the sprays flood the city streets where children rejoice in their own self-created rivers and adults look on, enviously, wishing they could join in on the fun. Business suits suddenly become too hot and the sweat pours from the commuters as they exchange their hot coffees for ice blends and complain to each other about 'that damn global warming' and how the taxi services need to put out more money towards air conditioning their cabs. The normal agitation level of the city triples in the all consuming heat and drivers and pedestrians alike shout at each other for seemingly no reason as the colors of the city become bold and bright in the face of fire.

The first day of summer displays the city as no other season can – on edge and with its fists in the air.

The call comes on the very first day of the season. It has been a grueling spring filled with court dates and meetings with attorney's and fighting to the point that Lawrence is starting to wonder if it might be best to throw in the towel – the best for Diana anyway. He's done everything he can to keep her out of the process, but she is a smart kid and she knows what is going on. There were many nights when he would go to bed crying thinking about his daughter and how hard this whole process was on her. Those were the nights when he needed Adam the most, and he was always there. Lawrence would bury his face in the soft brown hair and just hold him as tightly as he could manage – and if it was ever too tight Adam never complained. He would just be supportive and eventually make a joke or trip over the leg of the bed or something typical Adam that would make Lawrence laugh and take his mind off of everything.

When the call comes it is an average Sunday. Lawrence is making breakfast, not having to work until the evening, and Adam is going through his photos from the wedding he'd worked the day before. It is fairly quiet in the apartment minus the sounds of the traffic and car horns outside. These are sounds they are used to and equat to the sounds of birds and crickets chirping for a suburbanite. It is so peaceful that when the phone rings it startles both of them and Adam nearly jumps a foot off the couch. Lawrence just laughs at Adam's abrupt response and receives a glare in return.

"I'm so glad I amuse you, really." He reaches down to pick up the photo he has dropped in the process. Lawrence turns off the gas on the stove and throws the dishtowel over his shoulder as he moves to answer the phone.

"Endlessly. I don't even need television anymore." He picks up the cordless phone and smirks back at the younger man who is rolling his eyes in response. He clicks on the receiver and speaks into it. "Hello?"

"Larry?" The voice is familiar and brings with it a sense a dread throughout his body. He freezes in place for a moment and, apparently, it is a moment too long because the voice speaks again. "Larry, it's Ali."

"Ali…" Lawrence regains his composure and takes a deep breath. Adam hears the start of the conversation and is now focused on him. "You can't be calling me here. Our attorney's said…"

"Oh fuck the attorney's Larry." It is an abrupt response, which takes him off guard. "This isn't about them, it's about our daughter." She takes a deep breath and he can hear it through the receiver. "She needs her father."

He moves over to the kitchen table and feels his way down onto a chair. Adam watches intently from the couch and throws him inquisitive glances every now and then.

"Ali, we've talked about this. I'm not coming back." He rubs his forehead with his palm. The frustration is building in his voice and he tries to push it back down.

"I know, Larry. I understand now. I saw the pictures and I know that you're happy in New York." There is no anger in her voice, not like before. This is different. Suddenly, it strikes him.

"What pictures?" At this, Adam turns his head away from the conversation and Lawrence squints at him in question.

"The one's that Adam sent." There is a pause where Lawrence is trying to convey his questions to Adam silently and Ali seems to be waiting for response. "By the way, is Adam there? I'd like to talk to him."

Lawrence almost drops the phone at this moment. This is, quite possibly, the last thing he expected Alison to say. Across the room, Adam looks incredible guilty and has the posture of a child waiting for punishment. Lawrence clears his throat and continues.

"Yea, he's here." He pauses. "Uh…hold on a minute." Lawrence puts the phone down in his lap as Adam finally allows him to make eye contact again. "Adam, why does my ex-wife want to talk to you?"

Adam looks back down and fiddles with a loose string on his shirt – the same thing he always does when he doesn't want to answer a question.

"I may have sent her something…" The words come out in hesitation and Lawrence tries to figure out whether he should be angry or downright confused. "I only did it to help, I swear." The last words come out in a guilty desperation and Lawrence decides not to be angry just yet. He stands and brings the phone towards the couch. He holds it out to Adam in silence.

After a moment of uncertainty, Adam takes the phone and puts it to his ear.

Lawrence sits on the edge of the couch and patiently waits.

"Hello?" Pause. "Hi Alison." Pause and Adam nods into the receiver. "You did? I mean…that's good." Awkward pause. "Uh…yea I meant all of it." He leans back onto the couch and gives a small smile. "Yea, yea I do. A lot." There is a long pause and he laughs. "Yea, he does do that sometimes. Oh, and how he alphabetizes everything…it's like living in the public library." Lawrence glares and Adam stops laughing. "Um…I should let you talk to Lawrence. Yea, it was nice to finally meet you too."

With wide unblinking eyes, Adam hands the receiver back over to Lawrence. He takes it back and is suddenly unsure about what he should say next.

Lawrence clears his throat before speaking. "Ali?"

"Hi Larry. So, I was thinking that we should arrange for Diana to come stay with you and Adam this summer. She's been asking about it."

Lawrence breaks into a huge and yet skeptical smile as he meets Adam eyes briefly before responding.

"That would be great. Really great, Ali." He pauses to breath a long awaited sigh of relief. "But, uh, why the sudden change of heart?" He can almost hear her smile in return.

"Thank your boyfriend and your daughter. They wore me down." She pauses. "I still think we should work out something official. You take her during the summer and we split up the holidays. Something like that."

He nods into the phone. "Right, we should try to keep it consistent for her sake."

"Exactly. I have to go but we'll work out the details later. Tell Adam I said goodbye."

He pauses once more to send Adam a surprised glance. "I will. Goodbye Ali."

He hangs up the phone and sets it down on the coffee table next to Adam's spread of pictures. Adam looks up at him with wide expecting eyes.

Finally Lawrence speaks, unable to contain the wide smile on the face. "What the hell did you do?"

Adam blinks and rubs his face with his hand and moves it up through his hair. "It was Eric's idea. He helped me. We just thought that if she could remember how great of a father you are that maybe she would change her mind." He pauses and Lawrence just nods, still taking it all in. "Um…we just sent a few pictures that I took a long time ago and some newer ones too. Eric helped me write a letter with them. You were so fucking miserable man, I just wanted to help somehow…"

Adam rambles when he gets nervous. Lawrence just smiles back at him, the relief still flooding over him.

"Well? What the fuck did she say?" Adam blurts out. Nothing makes him more nervous than suspense. Deciding he has suffered enough, Lawrence leans forward and kisses him with all the emotion he is experiencing – holding the younger mans face between his hands.

"Diana is coming to stay with us this summer." He pauses and pushes his hair back, the words finally sinking in. "It's over. We're going to work out a custody arrangement."

Adam breaks out in a wide smile. "No fucking way! Are you serious?"

Lawrence smiles and nods – slowly and silently. At this news, Adam bounds forward and kisses Lawrence back with just as much emotion as previous.

"It's fucking over! And she's coming here." For the first time possibly ever, it seems that Adam is speechless. Lawrence smiles at the new revelation just before Adam finds his word again. "I love you, man."

Adam doesn't say those words often. He shows his love through actions more than anything. But he took it upon himself to get Diana back for him. He did it because he wanted Lawrence to be happy. There is no action that can express love more than that.

"I love you too, Adam." He imposes eye contact so that he can see favorite gray eyes, so clearly full of relief and happiness. "Thank you. Thank you for everything."

Adam smiles back. "You don't have to." He gives a brief smile. "We won! We got her back!" Adam jumps up from the couch in excitement and doesn't even notice that some of his pictures fly off of the coffee table as a result.

Lawrence laughs and leans back onto the couch. "Yea, yea we did." Suddenly, he remembers the scrambled eggs growing colder in the pan on top of the stove. "Oh no, breakfast." He stands and moves towards the kitchen but is stopped short by Adam, who grabs his hand before he can step foot into the room.

"Fuck that, man. We won! For that we get professional pancakes." On reflex, Lawrence wants to at least clean up the mess he left behind. However, it is the look in Adam's eyes that makes him think twice.

If there is anything Lawrence has learned from Adam, it is simply this.

Live. Live every moment until you can't breath anymore. Forget about what you are supposed to do and do what makes you happy. Even if that means cleaning up the mess later.

Adam learned this lesson in the bathroom. For Lawrence, it took loving Adam.

He nods and squeezes the hand that is entwined with his own.

"Professional pancakes it is." Adam's smile grows wider in victory as he leads Lawrence out of the apartment door, leaving enough time for both of them to grab their wallets and keys and for Lawrence to ask one last question.

"So what were you and Ali saying about me anyway?"

Adam shakes his head in response.

"Nope, Sorry man. Girl talk is strictly confidential."


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own Adam, Lawrence, or Diana. I take credit for Bobby and Eric in this one. Also, all due respect to all those who died in the 9/11/01 attacks and their families. No words can express the depth of that tragic day and I would never hope that my attempt here could ever do it justice.

Author Note: I did promise angst didn't I? The purpose of this chapter is to delve more into Adam's past and the things that he has been hiding from Lawrence. I figure we resolved Lawrence's conflict with Alison and now it's time to let Adam be the adorably angsty one. He is good at that, after all, and Lawrence is good at being all sexy and comforting. Might as well let them shine. :)

* * *

When the planes struck the trade towers in New York City, everything stopped. All categories of feet, from Manolo Blahnics to old ratty sneakers, stopped in their tracks on the sidewalks and took their eyes off of their own lives and placed them on the falling skyline. The world was suddenly bigger. The business deals didn't matter anymore and the growing issue of skyrocketing taxes and material possessions became moot. Nothing mattered except for one simple thing – the thing that entered every New Yorkers mind the minute they saw their world tumble to the ground in a mound of concrete, ash, and bones - this is war.

Life has never been easy for Adam Faulker. From the time he was small he was forced into combat and learned quickly that the world was full of weapons that could either be used to hurt him or protect him. They were everywhere and consisted of everything from a stray screwdriver to the large block of concrete broken off from the corner curb. That block had been hurled at his head once. He kept it for a year afterward – one less weapon off the street and into his own war chest in the corner of his bedroom. When he was young it was his father who was the enemy. After he turned sixteen and ran away from home it was the rest of the world.

After the bathroom it became clear to Adam that the entire city of LA was one big death trap. So he swiped some rich guy's plane ticket and flew first class to New York – filling up on champagne and expensive food the entire way. He spent a few nights alone on the street before he met Eric and he quickly found an alliance filled with the homeless, runaways, and junkies. He never went so far as to trust them completely, most of them anyway, but they kept him company and gave him a false sense of security for a time. It wasn't until someone new showed up on their curb that even a false sense of security became moot. His name was Bobby and he went from a stranger to a friend to a brother and protector and eventually a sworn enemy in a matter of months.

Bobby was a weapon in himself and it wasn't until he aimed his scope at Eric that Adam pulled his weapons chest out for the last time.

Memories fade and, as Adam cuddles deeply into Lawrence's embrace on the couch, he does not even think about Bobby. There is nothing to think about really – except for Aladdin playing on the TV screen and Lawrence's proud smile as Diana cuddles against his other side. This is his life now. There is no more war chest and no more battles to fight. He goes to sleep feeling safe and wakes feeling the same.

He has the perfect fucking life.

Until the phones rings.

He groans sleepily against Lawrence's chest and fights the need to move. The cell phone sits on the coffee table in front of them and vibrates uncontrollably against the glass making an unpleasant rattling sound. Diana stirs from the other side of the couch and Lawrence looks down at Adam in amusement.

"Are you gonna get that or would you like me to?" Large fingers move through Adam's hair and massage his scalp in the way that makes him smile. He is so happy. So fucking happy. He should have known this was coming.

"Whoever it is it can't possible be as important as watching Aladdin kick Jafer's ass…..err I mean butt."

Lawrence laughs as the irritating noise ceases. Adam slumps back down next to him. Curse words are on standby with Diana around. Adam tries his best, but he suspects it might actually be easier to quit smoking than to quit cursing- there is no gum that stops the word 'fuck' from coming out of your mouth.

"Nice save." Lawrence leans down and kisses the top of his head. They sit in silence for another thirty seconds or so, Adam savoring the feeling of Lawrence's everything against his body, before the vibrations begin again.

"Fu….fudgcicle." He stops himself earlier this time and he feels Lawrence's chest heaving in silent heavy laughter. "Shut up man, I'm trying here."

"I know." He says after he has regained control of his diaphragm. "And I appreciate the effort. It's just hearing you say fudgecicle…" He starts to laugh again and Adam leans forward to grab the annoying interruption in front of them. He looks back at Lawrence and points the phone at him as a mock threat.

"Do I need to bring up your brilliant pirate role play idea?" Adam shakes his head in mock disgust and Lawrence glares in partial amusement and partial embarrassment. "Parrot feathers everywhere….and I mean everywhere."

"You wouldn't…"

"Oh, try me…."

They glare mockingly at each other for a few moments more before Lawrence leans back on the couch in submission.

The phone vibrates in his hand and he sighs as the 'unknown number' message pops up on the screen.

"Great….telemarketer." He hits a button on the phone and puts it to his ear. "Thank you for calling Adam Faulker, I'm currently enjoying a pleasurable evening with my hot gay boyfriend but I'm so eager to hear what you want to sell me today. Oh I hope it's vacuum bags…"

"Gay boyfriend huh? Always knew you belonged in boys town…" The voice is familiar and immediately sends chills throughout his entire body. His breath hitches in his chest and it's as if all of the air has been sucked out of the room into one giant vacuum. Painful memories seep through the self-constructed barrier in his head and an image of Bobby, bleeding out in the middle of the street, strikes him like lightening.

He must look like he feels because suddenly the warmth of Lawrence's hand is on his back and rubbing in a circular motion – the way he always does after Adam has a nightmare.

"Adam? Is everything ok?" Lawrence whispers as if afraid to wake him from his trance. Adam pulls all of the energy he has from within to force his head to nod in response.

Then, the voice on the phone speaks again – casual in a way that makes Adam's skin crawl. "Hey Adam, are you there? It's me, Bobby."

Adam shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair – waking himself from the state of shock.

"Hey, uh, hold on a second." He covers the phone with his palm and turns towards Lawrence. His blue eyes are endearingly concerned and Adam melts inside thinking that he has to lie to him. "Uh….it's just an old friend from the neighborhood. I'm gonna go talk in the other room….Diana and all." He gestures to the little girl still sleeping against her father's chest.

Lawrence looks only slightly relieved and gives a small smile before nodding in understanding. "OK."

Adam stands on wobbly legs and mourns the loss of warmth from Lawrence's body. Even that can't calm the chills running across his skin right now. He is, essentially, talking to a corpse. When he reaches their bedroom he shuts the door behind him and leans against it for support.

"Who the fuck is this and how the fuck did you get this number?" The words come out in bitter tangents as the anger from so many years ago reaches the surface again. He hears a laugh from the other end of the phone and feels nausea form from the pit of his stomach.

"Oh Adam, you were always the naïve one. You can get all kinds of information about anybody these days – phone number, address, employment status. Guess you never thought about looking your best buddy up, huh?"

Adam scoffs and begins pacing back and forth. "Fuck you! Whoever you are, just fuck you." He moves to hang up the phone when suddenly he hears something that he has to listen to.

"Cute little girl…your boyfriends kid. Remember how you used to share your food with homeless children? Poor little street rats…I always told you they were destined to become whores and dealers. Would've been better off just letting them starve."

He stops pacing and balls his hand into a rigid fist of fury. He squeezes his eyes tightly. This isn't Bobby. It can't be. And, even if it is, he can't cry in front of Bobby. He won't.

"OK. What the fuck do you want from me?"

There is a short silence before he responds. "Well don't make me sound like such a monster, bro. I just miss my best buddy. How's lunch tomorrow? The taco joint on 95th Street we used to pan handle at. We have a lot of lost time to make up for."

Adam nods and mumbles a short affirmative response. The phone clicks off and a dial tone replaces the silence. He moves to fling the phone at the wall but quickly remembers who's in the next room and stops his arm midway. Lawrence can't know about this. He would never look at him the same way ever again. Instead, Adam tucks the phone into his back pocket and wipes his eyes with his sleeve before moving towards the closed door.

He places a hand on the knob but promptly notices something and removes the appendage to examine it more closely. It is pale and white, like usual. He blinks a few times and realizes that the red tint he thought he saw was nothing but a memory of a day he never wanted to remember.

The day he killed Bobby.

There is a light tapping from outside the room and he shakes off the memory in time for the door to budge slightly. He looks up to see Lawrence's concerned blue eyes again. Diana must be in bed by now.

"Hey, you ok?"

Adam forces a smile and then buries himself in Lawrence's chest. Guilt plagues him for enjoying this so much but he doesn't care at the moment. He needs this.

After all, it may be the last time he gets to feel this happy.

"Can we go to bed now?" Lawrence rakes his fingers across Adams scalp and he loves every single minute of it.

"Of course. I love you, Adam." Adam just nods in response. He can't say the words right now even though he means them. Lawrence seems to understand and they lie down in the bed together with Lawrence's arms wrapped around Adam's body in a spooning position.

He won't sleep that night, but at least he can bask in the comfort of his fucking perfect life for a few precious hours before the war chest comes out again.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own any of them. All credit goes to James and Leigh here.

Author Note: So I promise I have not abandoned either of my current stories. I've had a busy couple of weeks with a side of writers block to boot. Plus, it seems there aren't many new Adam/Lawrence stories coming out (minus Stella's, which I absolutely love :) ) lately which makes for less inspiration for me. So lets get to it writers! Have to keep this pairing alive! Anyway, hope you all like this. It might be kind of menacing of me, but I do love to make Lawrence and Adam fight. They're sexy when they're angry.

* * *

The weather in the city is forever changing just like the natives who live according to its unpredictable behavior. Crosswinds come down from the Atlantic ocean and meet at one particular spot in the middle of downtown New York where they wreak their havoc upon the unsuspecting foot traffic. The warmth of the summer sun is contrasted by the cool breeze and the clouds pass over and claim their place high above the skyscrapers, like the neighborhood homeless man claims his spot underneath the awning on the street corner. Once settled, they bring about a storm strong enough to rock the steel beams supporting the great buildings that make this city the powerhouse that it is. Millions of New Yorkers are at the mercy of the bipolar moods of the clouds above as they duck under newspapers and desperately hail for cabs that will never come. And within this sudden chaos, there is always the one New Yorker who walks slowly through the puddles and accepts the splashes of water like a seasoned boxer a punch to the jaw. Because in New York nothing is predictable, and the unexpected is to be anticipated.

There is something wrong with Adam. It may sound strange, but Lawrence could tell from the way Adam clung so tightly to him as they fell asleep last night. The term could be used loosely as Adam hadn't really slept at all. This is evidenced by the dark circles under his eyes this morning and the way that Lawrence woke up from a deep slumber to Adam staring a hole into the far window. At first he thought it was another one of his dreams and pulled the young man closer to comfort him, but there was something different about this time. It took Lawrence awhile to figure it out, but when he did it was clear.

What is different is that Adam seemed to become more afraid as the sun rose on the horizon. Typically, this is when the shadow's of puppets disappear and the feeling of safety returns. The sun chases Jigsaw away, it always has.

When morning comes Adam stays in bed longer than usual. Lawrence, being the morning person he is, has already woken up, made Diana breakfast, and showered. He is in the process of getting dressed when Adam finally speaks up. It startles Lawrence, as he had assumed the young man was still sleeping.

"What time are you working till today?" Lawrence looks up from the tie he is working around his neck and gives a small smile. Adam is adorable in his bed hair and white sleep shirt. The blanket covers him halfway up and he clings to it with clenched fists. He is pale, more so than usual, and seems to be squinting against the rising sun.

"I'll be home by 5, like usual. Why?"

Adam shifts in the bed until the blankets cover him up to his chin. He discovers a frayed edge in the fabric and begins to pick at it with deep concentration. Lawrence smiles despite himself, as this is something he has seen Diana do often when she is upset.

"No reason." There is a short pause before he retracts the statement. "I mean, I have a wedding this afternoon. I'm not sure when I'll be home." Lawrence continues to watch him and realizes that Adam is, deliberately, not making eye contact with him.

Adam doesn't lie often anymore and if he does it is usually about something menial – like whether he remembered to take out the trash or empty the dishwasher. It bothers Lawrence, as integrity is one thing he values, but he usually lets it slide with Adam. Lying is a survival mechanism for him. It is a like a security blanket to Adam and, while Lawrence can never really understand, he does his best to accept it.

Tie in place, Lawrence moves towards the bed and sits on the edge next to his younger counterpart. Adam doesn't move and continues to stare at the stray thread – now two inches longer since he's been playing with it. Lawrence reaches out and places his hand on Adams, stopping the incessant motions of his fingers and causing Adam to look up at him for the first time since last night. The light gray eyes are clearly nervous and Lawrence thinks he sees a flash of fear in them before Adam turns away again.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

The gray eyes meet his again, and this time they are in defense mode. This is the moment when Adam shuts down – the moment before he cracks and tells Lawrence everything while huddled in his arms.

"Talk about what? Fuck, it's like I can't even ask a question without it becoming some big daytime TV drama. Why don't you just call Oprah and have her make a fucking house call." It's said with his usual sarcastic tone but there is something different about this time. Lawrence knows it, deep down. Adam has mouthed off this way countless times before, but this is just different.

"Well, we can talk about why you didn't sleep at all last night." He says it with genuine concern and hopes it doesn't come out abrupt. Adam scoops himself up in bed until he is in a sitting position. The blanket falls to the floor and his vulnerability is more apparent than ever. He seems to be considering this question and moves past Lawrence in order to place his feet on the ground. He stands and moves towards his dresser, where he opens the top drawer and pulls out the cigarette pack he keeps only for emergencies. When he speaks it is with the tobacco stick in between his lips.

"We got locked in a shithole bathroom by a fucking puppet. You really have to ask why I can't sleep sometimes?" Its said half jokingly but the brief eye contact that they make shows Lawrence just how troubled his partner is. He may be correct about the bathroom part, but this is not the cause of his current relapse.

Suddenly, something occurs to Lawrence and he follows Adam out onto the balcony. The cigarette is lit and the orange glow plays parallel to the now almost fully risen sun. Adam leans over the railing an inch too far for Lawrence's comfort, but he forces himself to stand back.

"Who was that on the phone last night?" He makes it sound as casual as possible as he places his hands in the pockets of his khakis. Adam never turns around, just looks out into the horizon with the same vacant stare as last night.

"Old friend." It is brief and meant to be that way. Lawrence takes the chance of moving another step closer and is pleased when Adam doesn't flinch. He decides to take another risk.

"A friend you met when you were homeless?" The reaction is instantaneous and Adam turns on him with fire in his gaze. He holds the cigarette between his fingers still but aims it down towards the concrete ground.

"Do you need a hearing aid? I said I don't wanna fucking talk about it…" It is a warning for Lawrence to back off or else. He should back off; he knows this. But he can't, not today.

"You know about my past, Adam, all of it. You have it all over your dark room walls." It's true. Adam knows everything about him and he knows little about Adam. It's something that has bothered him for a while now. The lying; the hiding. Lawrence feels it becoming too much. "All I want is to know what your life was like for the last two years…the truth. That's all I've ever wanted to know."

Adam drops his cigarette and stomps it out angrily. He avoids Lawrence's eyes again and from the shining reflection in them it is clear why. Adam doesn't cry much, but when he does it's because he is truly in pain. Lawrence feels his frustration melting away and fights to remain at a distance from his partner but, before he can even consider it, Adam is brushing past him and back into the apartment.

The mumbled words are barely audible as he passes.

"No, you really fucking don't."

Lawrence stays outside for a moment longer, savoring the warm morning air as it blows past. It smells of exhaust and mildew. Vile to some, but home to him. When he does finally return to the apartment a few minutes later, Adam is in the living room and getting Diana's backpack ready. She lifts her arms as he places it on her back. She goes to day camp on the days that he and Adam are working. He stops in the hallway and watches, unannounced.

"Adam?" She is about to ask a very serious question, Lawrence can tell by her tone.

"Yes Diana?" Adam gives her a small smile. He loves her, he has from the day she showed up on their doorstep. She loves him too. Lawrence could not have asked for a more perfect family and he smiles warmly in appreciation.

"Why are you sad today?" Adam's smile drops only slightly and he sighs and bites his lip. Lawrence watches and waits for the answer just as eagerly as his little girl.

"I'm sad because I have to go instead of staying home with you, beautiful." Diana smiles at him and throws her arms around his neck. Adam reciprocates and Lawrence see's his first expression of real emotion that morning.

"Don't worry. Daddy and I will be home tonight and we can make spaghetti!" They are still hugging as she speaks and what Lawrence witnesses at that moment makes him consider staying home from work today.

It isn't the display of affection, but rather the expression on Adam's face that makes him dread leaving him alone. It isn't an expression of love or happiness or even anger. It is a worrisome mixture of pain and fear in the form of a wince, as if someone has just punched him in the gut. His voices crack as he speaks again.

"And we'll make a huge mess so your dad will have to clean it up."

The little girl laughs and they break apart. The floor creaks under Lawrence's shoes and both members of his family look up at him. Adam visibly shakes off his emotions while Diana proudly displays the backpack on her shoulders.

"I'm ready to go, Daddy."

Lawrence pauses, looking from Adam to Diana and back again, before moving towards her and scooping her up in his arms.

"You are? Well I guess it's time to go then." Adam is sitting on the couch and fiddling with his camera bag, preparing for departure as well. "You know, I have a light day today. Maybe I'll cut out early, crash your reception." It's meant directly for Adam but he doesn't look up from the mess of film canisters and lens caps.

"Uh…might not be a good idea. Grooms family is a bunch of uptight as…buttholes." Lawrence smiles at the silly correction and Diana giggles at Adam's language. He thinks he see's a sad smile cross Adam's face as he stands and throws the bag over his shoulder. Adam moves towards them and tickles Diana playfully. "You'll learn more about what that means when you're older."

Their eyes meet one last time and the sadness is back in Lawrence's favorite grey eyes again. Everything inside of him says not to let Adam leave the apartment.

He does anyway and the nausea that hits Lawrence when he watches him go the opposite direction down the street is only a prediction of what is to come.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own Adam or Lawrence. I do own Bobby and Eric.

Author Note: So, this chapter was inspired by the song "Shameful Metephors" by Chevelle. It's a beautiful song and I thought of Adam the first time I heard it. I guess you can say it's kind of his theme song in this chapter. The 'lyrics' aren't really from the song but from an imaginary song that, I'm accrediting, to Eric. They are similar though so don't sue me please!

* * *

Most things in the city make noise. The cars speed up and slow down and brake suddenly giving background music to the lives of the people passing by. Pigeons coo in groups when they find a promising garbage can and venders shout out their bargain prices to attract business. It's not just the players within but also the city itself that makes noise. Those who are lucky enough to bath in one of the quietest moments in the city, which are brief and rare, can still hear the faint humming that emits from the tunnels beneath the streets and up through the concrete and even into the air itself. It surrounds the buildings and the cars and the people until they are so enmeshed with it that they know nothing else and there is a sudden realization that even if every person, machine, and animal in the city were to vanish there would still be an electricity so profound that it would echo forever. The city is electric with life – and the people within are just lucky if their presence makes any sound loud enough to compare.

He'd never counted his steps before. He'd always been more interested in the people passing by and the newsstands where he could find the newspapers with his most recent photographs. He'd barely ever even looked down at his feet because all of the most photographic images lived above his head. Above his head was the city he loved – the city he deserved to live in because he had fought to be here. Adam had never felt that he deserved many nice things, but this city, well this city was the best thing he had ever had the privilege of being a part of.

This city and Lawrence Gordon's life.

Now, that has all gone to fucking hell. Now, Adam counts every single fucking step because he is walking away from both of his favorite things in the world. Headphones in his ears, the music of his past blaring so loud he can barely hear the car's brakes screech when it halts only inches from him, he marches to a most certain death. The camera slung across his shoulder is just for show. Its there because, well, he couldn't fucking bear to leave it behind. It was there the last time he faced certain death. It never left him no matter what kind of shit he got himself into and, if he was lucky, out of. It wouldn't be right to do this without its comforting polyester strap hugging his body.

Adjusting the strap to fit just slightly tighter, Adam stops at the corner of two familiar streets. Has he walked twenty-five blocks already? Fuck, that was fast. He looks to one corner and see's the drug store that, most appropriately, houses the biggest drug dealer on this end of the city. Adam had never been much for drugs, aside from his token cigarettes of course, but he had spent many a night fishing his friends out of that shit hole and getting his ass kicked for it later. He rubs his head in memory of that fucking baseball bat – definitely the solid wood kind. On the next corner is the empty lot where he'd watched a fifteen-year-old kid take a bullet to the head. Its true, brains do look like oatmeal when they come out. He'd vomited for two days after that and told his friends he'd just had too much of that cheap booze. As far as he knows, they still think that kid went back home to his parents. Except for Eric, of course, he knows every fucked up detail.

Eric, he considers calling him for a second. They've always had each others backs. He wouldn't be alive today without him. This, though, isn't Eric's fight. Bobby is Adam's problem because he made sure of that the day he killed him – or at least thought he did.

The taco stand is basically a shit hole with bright colors and a few streamers hung by the guys who sling crap onto tortillas and shove them at the poor bastards who can't afford anything better. It hasn't changed a damn bit. Adam feels his skin begin to crawl and pulls the camera bag against his body like a shield. Truth is, he'd take a bullet before he let that camera take it. If he's going to disappear than at least the camera can be the record of his existence.

_Some people make sounds with their lives. Some only leave behind silence._

Eric is the writer, but Adam lives by his words.

"Fuck." Adam mutters it to himself and doesn't even have to take the headphones out to know that he is not alone. He turns and see's the corpse crossing the street and heading straight for him. He pulls the string of music from his ears and listens to its dregs as he shoves the iPod into his bag.

_Fading, fading, and faded. _

He spots an empty stool at the counter and moves towards it with disguised haste. He drops himself onto the uncomfortable fabric covered steel and leans on the counter. When the taco guy comes to take his order he waves him away with an annoyed glare. When, or if, they find his corpse he sure as fuck doesn't want them to know that his last meal was shitty trashcan taco meat.

"Shoot me if I'm wrong but I swear that's the same rag you wore the last time I saw you." The voice sounds gravely and heavy, with a thick jersey accent, same as it was back then. "Once a street rat always a street rat, eh?"

Adam looks up and sees the man who has been Jigsaw's assistant in every one of his nightmares for the last year. He is large and muscled with tanned skin and dark hair shaved almost to the skull.

The skull, the one the bullet went in. If he looks closely he can see the depression in the right side. He pulls his eyes away, though, and forces them to meet the almost black ones staring back at him like two cold marbles.

"Oh, so you called me here to fucking Queer eye me. And here I thought you were gonna try and kick my ass." He can't help it, the more pissed off he gets the more sarcasm spews from his mouth. Bobby pisses him off like no one else has ever been able to.

The large man crushes the stool next to him and makes a gesture to the taco guy.

"I like to think that we know each other well, my brother. That said, you should know that I never 'try' to do anything." The taco guy comes back and places two shot glasses in front of them. A bottle in the other hand, he pours a dark liquid into each of them before moving away on command of Bobby. "Now, though, we drink. And you will tell me about your prince charming."

Adam eyes the glass wearily and then looks back up at his nemesis.

"Sorry, _brother_, really striving for that AA pin this month." He knows he is asking for it, but he doesn't care. He's had a long night and twenty-five blocks to prepare himself for this and he refuses to get sloppy now.

Bobby doesn't even shift as he downs his shot as well as Adams. He cocks his head slightly and gives Adam and cocky smile.

"See, no poison." He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and locks Adam into a dark stare. Adam forces himself to breath as he remains stern and unmoving. Bobby couldn't intimidate him back then, when everyone else cowered in his presence, he certainly isn't going to start now. "So, little Adam nabbed himself a doctor. That's one way to make it out of the cardboard district. Always knew you would be a good little fuck but damn…" He takes another shot from the bartenders stash and smacks his lips. "Mmmm..."

The sound alone makes Adam want to shoot him again and again. Fuck feeling guilty, he has nothing to feel guilty about. He moves his hand towards his bag, where he has stashed his old friend – a knife he acquired from his old weapons chest.

"As flattered as I am by that, I'll pass thanks." He pauses and makes a decision. Standing from the stool, Adam pulls his bag up on his shoulder. He takes a deep determined breath before speaking again. "I fucking killed you Bobby. Guess what? I don't even regret it, you sick fuck. Now, either you're going to fucking kill me back or I'm leaving."

The larger man just sits there, never moving. Their eyes haven't broken contact and Adam feels a chill coming from those cold dark orbs. He would say those are the eyes of a dead man but Bobby's eyes have always been this way. Maybe that's why all of those poor kids gave in to him – let him hurt, rape, and even kill them. It had gone that way until he couldn't take it anymore – Bobby ruling the neighborhood and taking advantage of the street kids. It had to stop. Someone had to stop it and no one else volunteered for that fucking job.

"And stay the fuck away from my family or I'll shoot the other side of your skull off too."

Adam doesn't blink, not even when he turns to walk away.

_Some lives end in a bang _

Adam's life sounds like his footsteps on the pavement and Led Zeppelin in his ears as he turns the corner and heads towards the hospital. He has to tell Lawrence everything.

The last sound he hears is the crack of the baseball bat against his skull.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I can only take credit for Eric in this one. Oh, and the lyrics are from the song "Paint it Black" by The Rolling Stones.

Author Note: Thanks for all of the reviews in the last chapter! I tried to update as quickly as possible because I know how torturous cliffhangers can be. I guess this doesn't really clear up that much but just believe me when I say I don't think I could ever really kill my adorable little Adam. Just seeing him die in the movie was torturous enough. :'(

* * *

Some say that there are those who run from certain death and then there are those who run towards it. And that one doesn't know which category they will fall into until they are exposed to a situation where they must make a fast decision. They must make a choice – run or fight. When the towers fell, many ran towards the destruction. Their world was collapsing around them and the ground fell from beneath them, and yet they continued towards the dying buildings. Dust covered statues of people marched in troves down the littered streets towards the former towers. Their motives may have varied but they chose to keep going forward when everyone else went away from. It wasn't just that day either, for weeks and months after they kept going back. Hundreds of New Yorkers came back with boots and masks and gloves and pick axes and shovels and everything they could find. They came back, left their place of safety, because there was no other option.

Sometimes there just isn't a choice to make. Sometimes the choice is already made for you.

It feels like a bullet hitting his chest. It feels like a saw cutting into his flesh and tearing through his bone. No, it feels worse than that. It feels like somebody has taken all of the oxygen in the world and sucked it dry with a giant vacuum cleaner leaving only enough to fill the bare minimum of his lung. Every single breath is a struggle and he cannot remember ever being in so much pain.

It all starts with Eric coming into the emergency room on a stretcher. They call him down for a new patient. He expects that it is just a standard surgical consult but when they describe the injuries to him he can't imagine why they would have paged him in the first place.

"Sounds like a job for ortho." He leans over the counter top and skims the front page of the chart. The nurse looks up at him from her computer, her usual jovial spirit is not present today and she meets his eyes without hesitation.

"He asked for you by name. Figured he was just some junky looking for a fix… and then he mentioned Adam." Lawrence immediately scans the chart until he finds the space reserved for the patients name.

Eric. No last name given at patient request.

"Thought you might be interested. Was I wrong?"

He puts his palm through his hair once and pushes air through his lips harshly.

"No. You weren't. Thanks, Vicky. I'll go see him now." His feet feel heavy as he straightens the stethoscope around his neck and weaves his way through nurses, X-ray techs, and interns scurrying about. When he gets to the small curtained off he takes another breath before pulling it open all at once.

It is, without question, the same Eric. Except, unlike the many other times they have met socially, his face is covered in cuts and bruises and one eye is almost completely swollen shut. His left arm is forced into a straight position by a splint and laid across his chest like a newborn to its mother. He is favoring it like a living being as well and the look on his face is pained.

"Eric?" He is surprised to hear his voice crack. The younger man looks up from the cot and watery eyes meet his. At first, he looks utterly shocked to see Lawrence. Then, the shock quickly turns to panic.

"Lawrence? Fuck…I'm so happy to see you man. I told that nurse I needed you but she just ordered a drug test and left…" A look of relief washes over him as Lawrence moves closer. He reaches down to examine his injuries, mostly out of instinct, but Eric flinches away from his touch. He specifically cradles his left arm against his chest and takes several hurried breaths before he begins speaking manically. "Where's Adam? Have you seen him today? Oh fuck, please tell me you know where's he at…."

Forgetting his surgical role for the moment and remembering just how much this man means to Adam – Lawrence places his hand gently on the healthy arm and sits down in the plastic chair next to the bed. "OK, just relax Eric. Everything is ok. I need you to calm down and tell me what happened."

Eric does stop and the way he meets Lawrence's eyes ignites every nerve in his body. He has never seen Adams friend, his friend, so intense before. He is lighthearted, even when everyone else in the room is not. Lawrence holds the contact even though the emotion it brings defies everything about how he should be acting. He is a doctor – emotion doesn't even factor in. When Eric is ready, he speaks again. This time, his voice is slow and methodical. It is intended to communicate clearly and precisely one thing.

"He's going to kill Adam."

Lawrence feels his mouth turn dry and he tries his best to swallow the statement. Aggravation builds up within his chest as he tries to interpret why Eric would say such a despicable thing about Adam. Suddenly all he wants to do is walk away and leave the kid to his own devices. He pushes himself through the curtain and ignores the pleas from passing nurses for his help. Pulling the cell phone from his back pocket, he brings up Adam's number. It rings once, then twice. Then four times more before it hits voicemail. He redials, not certain what he is hoping for but hoping nonetheless. After getting the same result, he takes a breath and pushes back through the curtain towards Eric.

"What are you talking about? Why would…" He hears how he sounds. He doesn't sound like himself but more like the relatives of the patients who threaten to sue him after their loved one dies. "Eric, just tell me who did this to you."

Eric's eyes stream from his treasured arm to Lawrence and circle the small space in search of something or somebody. He blinks quickly a few times and winces in pain.

"Bobby. His name is Bobby." He pauses, appearing to consider whether to go on. His eyes circle the curtained off area once more before they come back to Lawrence confused and panicked. "Don't you get it, Larry? You have to find him! You have to find Adam or I will! We have to warn him!" His voice consistently gets louder until Lawrence can feel the stares of his coworkers outside of the curtain – his face darkening at the thought. Then, Eric pushes himself up in the bed with obvious pain and holds his injured arm tightly to his body. "Don't you believe me? He saved me! He saved my life and he saved yours too you pompous asshole….and here I actually thought you could help me." He pauses and moves to the edge of the bed – staring down at the awaiting floor with quiet anger. "You're just like the rest of them…we're all a bunch of street trash to you." It is only when he jumps to his feet and nearly falls in the process that Lawrence fully realizes what is happening.

Adam is not working today and he is not answering his phone. He is in danger and he knew all about it when he left that morning. Adam is somewhere out in that city scared as hell and possibly even hurt or….

Lawrence abruptly takes Eric, gently but firmly, by the shoulders – pushing him back down onto the bed. The young man is clearly very angry with him but Lawrence forces him to meet his eyes.

"Eric, shut the fuck up and listen to me. Where would he go? Where would Adam go to see someone like Bobby? There has to be somewhere where he hangs out…" His voice is amazingly calm again and he feels himself taking control. Objective number one is to find Adam. Objective number two is to kill the son of a bitch who is trying to hurt him.

Eric's eyes search Lawrence's face, clearly trying to gauge his intent, before he responds.

"East New York….that's where he used to squat. But Adam wouldn't just go there…I mean that's suicide."

The single statement, said without thought, lingers in the air like smoke above their heads. Lawrence drops his hands from Eric's shoulders and looks at him – a common fear shared between them.

"He knew. He got a phone call last night...some friend from the neighborhood." Lawrence pulls the cell phone out again and puts it to his ear. He listens to it ring again and again, growing more desperate when each goes unanswered. Eric sits upright defiantly.

"Bobby called him?" Eric rubs his arm and shakes his head. "Fuck…"

Phone still to his ear, Lawrence turns back to Eric.

"He's not picking up, I have to go find him." He hesitantly takes the phone down and hands it over to Eric. "Here, keep trying to call him."

Lawrence doesn't wait for a response as he pushes through the curtain and drops his coat and stethoscope at the desk. He hears Vicky calling out to him from behind but ignores her. Nothing matters now – nothing except for finding Adam and bringing him home safely.

And just as he reaches the automatic glass doors, he stops in his tracks. There is only one sound in the world that could halt his efforts now.

That is the sound of the Rolling Stones playing the same familiar lyric in succession.

_I see my red door and I want it painted black….no colors anymore I want them to turn black…_

When he turns around he see's Vicky standing there. Hanging from her hand is a black strap that leads down to a black bag, which is clearly the source of the ring tone. As he moves closer, he also notices something else.

It is all covered in blood.

This feeling is worse than a bullet to the chest, worse than amputating his foot, even worse than suffocation. Vicky's lips are moving but he can't interpret the sound from them. In fact, it seems the whole world has gone silent. Even as he see's Eric running towards the incoming gurney in his hospital gown, cell phone still in hand, he hears nothing.

He tells his feet to walk towards the assigned trauma room and they obey at a pace much slower than Eric's. When he makes it to the glass doors he stares inside. He sees the dark puff of hair sticky with blood. One paramedic is bagging and the other is doing chest compressions. There is blood, a lot of blood. They are covered with it actually. He watches as the nurses push Eric out of the way of the medics and he pushes right back at them. He is now covered in blood too.

Lawrence closes his eyes for a moment and savors the memory of last night - Adam's warm body curled up against his. He had clung to him so tightly as if it were the last time he would get to.

Then, he opens his eyes.

Hell with that.

He marches into the trauma room and pushes past the nurses.

It's time to save Adam.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own Adam, Lawrence, or Diana. I also do not own The Rolling Stones, Greys Anatomy, or ER. I do own Eric. Damn that was a long disclaimer...

Author Note: Whew...finally got this completed. I started a few days ago with the intention of finishing and publishing it sooner, but then my friend came by with his motorcycle and I got a bit distracted. :P So...one road trip later and here is the finished product. I anticipate one more chapter after this before I close this story for good...just to wrap things up. Oh, and I hope I don't go to hell for all of the cursing and religious symbols put together in the same sentence. I mean no offense by it, but I had to stay true to Adam. Hope you all like it and please review. :)

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They say that if you throw a penny off of the Empire State Building it could kill somebody. A penny, one cent, a small coin that sits in the bottom of the purse or pocket of most New Yorkers for weeks or months before it's even noticed. Even then, most of these coins end up in a donation bin or a homeless man's palm. To the average businessman walking by, a penny is a useless item usually shoved back to whatever cashier sent it their way. To a homeless man struggling to feed his children, a penny means the difference between sleeping in a cardboard box and a night in a shelter away from the wind and rain. Just as a simple handful of change can affect the life of a person, a single person can affect the city around them. People walk the streets of New York all day every day and see nothing of the impact they make on the wear and tear of the pavement: the wear and tear of the people around them. They don't see the pain or the smiles that exist because of their presence - the contribution their footsteps make to the pulse of the city. One person's change can mean the life or death of another. One person's life may mean the world to another. One life cut short, one less person wandering the streets, changes the heartbeat of the city.

Sometimes it even halts it altogether.

He doesn't see any fucking angels. There are no bright lights or yellow brick roads to walk down either. From what he can tell, heaven is just a collage of different moments in time set to the backdrop of beeping machines, sponge baths, and some kind of tube being shoved up his dick without his permission. They never talked about that stuff in the brochures those jacked up priests always handed out on the street corners.

No, heaven is like his pictures when he spreads them out on the coffee table at home. He looks at all of them, first all at once, and then starts narrowing them down. He compares the bride and groom's individual shots with each other and then the ones of the couple. From there it's onto the wedding party and the family and friend shots. Some of the shots are good and some are blocked out by the sunlight or the shadows or even the drunk best man's hand as he attempts to stop the evidence from being created.

Some are shit and some are perfection. As the photographer, he is trained to look for perfection inside of imperfection.

This is how he categorizes the moments too. They are usually short lived in between long bouts of sleep and gray. The dark is gray here, not a terrifying black like the bathroom after Jigsaw closed that door. For this, Adam is thankful. The gray gets a little lighter when the moments come and, just like when he takes pictures, the moments are more beautiful in grayscale anyway.

He holds onto his favorite snapshots like lifelines.

Like the moment when Eric brought his IPOD in and placed one ear bud in Adam's ear while keeping the other in his own. They listened to the Stone's album, Sticky Fingers, for a long time and every time "Wild Horses" came on Eric cried. He said it was because Adam always requested he play this one. It was true, but that was only because Eric was so fucking good at it.

Then there was the time that Lawrence and Eric argued for what seemed like ages over which TV show was more realistic – ER or Grays Anatomy.

"Please Larry, I would trust Dr. McDreamy's beautiful feminine fingers to perform a craniotomy on me any day. He's like the super man of surgery…except hotter."

With an exasperated sigh, Lawrence counters. "Well Eric, I'm sure you'd let Brad Pitt perform a craniotomy on you if he had a scalpel and perfect hair. Dr. Benton has better skill and precision than any of those amateurs on that soap opera."

There were imperfect moments too, ones that made him ache inside for what he could have if he could just fucking wake up - like the night when Lawrence showed up after a particularly long and stressful day in the OR and crawled into bed with him. He was so incredibly warm then that Adam could have curled around him and stayed there forever. That was the first time he had felt Lawrence's touch since his murder, any ones touch really. Before now he had just sensed it, watched it through a camera lens, but in that moment it was real. Lawrence's tears falling through his thin hospital gown, large fingers raking through his hair, his breath on Adam's cheek as he cried and pleaded for Adam to come back to him. It was fucking torture and it was wonderful at the same time. Torture because Lawrence was so sad. Wonderful because it was real and he was a part of it, not just an observer.

The last moment he remembers, though, is the most significant. It is significant because it was the first moment to happen in color. It doesn't start out that way. It happens slowly over time. He is in his room when the growingly familiar sound of the crypt keeper's voice appears. Adam calls his doctor that because he always talks about death when he comes around. He suspects that is what he is doing when he asks Lawrence and Eric to step out of the room, away from Diana and 'the patient'. Everything starts to turn to gray again, and he feels himself falling back into that deep sleep, when somebody crawls into bed with him. It is a small person with childlike arms that barely fit around his body. Long curls fall across his face and soon there is a comforting voice breaking through the grayscale.

"Hi Adam." It's Diana. Her voice is high pitched and excited. "Daddy says that you're sleeping so much because you're sick. When I get sick, Daddy always reads me a story. So I wrote you a story at camp today to make you feel better."

The gray is getting lighter again. It's almost white now.

She scoots around to change her position and she is now sitting on top of his stomach. Her weight is a resistance to his breathing, but somehow it feels good to be able to fight against something again. She clears her throat in an adorable gesture, which sends a wave of warmth through his body. Fuck, he misses that little girl.

"This story is called "My Friend Adam". She straightens herself up causing even more pressure on his stomach. He urges his body to move to alleviate some of her weight to no avail. "My daddy has a friend and his name is Adam." As he hears the construction paper page turn the whiteness shifts to a bright orange. "He is very nice to daddy and I." she turns the page again and the grinding of the pages together causes him to flinch internally. "Adam likes to take pictures and sometimes he takes me with him to take pictures at the park. We have lots of fun together." The orange light starts to glow and envelope him like the fog at the park in the early morning. "Sometimes Adam uses bad words, but I don't tell daddy about it because he doesn't say them in a mean way." Suddenly the light is so hot, so fucking hot that it's almost burning his eyelids. He tries to command his hands to cover his face. "Adam and daddy have lots of fun together too. My daddy smiles a lot more and he likes to hug Adam at night when he thinks I'm asleep." It's burning his eyes so fucking bad now and he is sure he must be staring directly into the hot sun now. He has to open his eyes; he has to open them now because it hurts too fucking much to stay asleep.

"Diana! What are you doing, honey?" A figure is standing in the doorway. Everything is so blurry but Adam can make out the familiar blonde hair and green scrubs anywhere. He blinks a few times and moves his eyes to his lap. Diana is still perched there, with her head turned toward her father. She is holding a construction paper booklet. On the front are large orange letters that read a familiar phrase.

Please wake up Adam

His breath hitches in his throat as he still struggles against Diana's minimal weight. Fuck, he must have gotten weak since…

"Diana, you can't sit on Adam like that. You could hurt him…" Lawrence is doing that thing where he makes his voice calm, even though he is not calm at all. His shoes are loud as he marches towards the bed and the little girl on top of it. Adam tries to call out to him – tell him that it's ok and she can stay there if she wants to. His voice, though, seems to be stuck in the same place he has been for so long. All he can manage is a hoarse grunt.

It seems to work, though, as Diana turns back towards him and Lawrence stops only inches from the bed. They are both staring at him like he is part of some freak show. He silently pleads that somebody say something because his throat is already tired as fuck from the one noise he could make. Finally, Diana breaks into a huge grin and throws her tiny stick arms around his neck. He feels his eyes widen as this impairs his breathing even more.

Lawrence jumps to the rescue right away and pulls Diana back. There is still shock on his face but Adam see's the trace of a smile. It looks like his eyes are sparkling as well, but that could just be the blurry vision.

"Come on honey, we need to give Adam some room so he can wake up." The words are all spaced apart as if Lawrence is questioning whether he is really saying them at all. Fed up with the blurry world, and feeling the same frustration he does when his photos turn out blurry, Adam slowly moves his arms up and rubs his eyes with his fists. This helps a little and now Lawrence is in perfect clarity.

"Lawrence?" The word comes out in more of a croak than his actual voice. Lawrence moves closer to the bed until he is right there, right next to him. His eyes are still sparkling and there are actual tears on his cheeks now. Adam blinks a few more times and squints against the harsh light of the nearby window. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Everything is going to be fine now." Lawrence breaks into a smile and wipes the tears away as he sits on the edge of the bed and finds Adam's hand. He entwines his fingers around Adams and suddenly Adam is real again. He can feel this, really feel it. Lawrence is real and in color and his skin is touching his skin. Ghosts can't touch people, can they?

"Adam! Holy shit you're awake!" Eric is standing at the end of the bed and looks like a kid at Christmas. He is still carrying that guitar on his back, even though he sports a neon green cast on his strumming arm. "I knew it, I knew that doctor was a fucking crackpot!"

Lawrence doesn't even flinch at Eric's cursing. Adam sends a mocking glare his way.

Spotting a glass of water on the nightstand, he reaches over for it. Lawrence stops him halfway and grabs it for him, placing the straw to his mouth. Adam insists on gripping the glass anyway, fuck if he's going to be treated like a baby, and savors the cool liquid as it loosens his vocal cords. Feeling more capable, he gives the water back to Lawrence and pushes himself up on his elbows with more difficulty than he anticipated.

Then, he turns to Lawrence and playfully glares again. His voice comes out in a more free flowing whisper as he feels his natural sarcasm return.

"What the hell, man? I die and then you decide to lighten up on the no cursing rules?"

Eric smiles so wide that it nearly splits his face in two and soon he has picked up Diana and placed her on top of Adam's feet. She is giggling uncontrollably at a joke she probably doesn't entirely understand yet. Lawrence is biting his lip to keep from smiling too much and the tears are in his eyes again. Adam meets them and feels that ball in his stomach growing. He grips Lawrence's hand tightly and Lawrence pushes his greasy feeling hair from his eyes.

Now that they can actually hear him, Adam decides to put it all out on the table.

"You're both wrong by the way. McDreamy is a self-involved narcissist who would be too distracted by the mirrors in the OR to save anybody. And Benton, well he's just kind of a dick. If I have to have surgery again I'll take Dr. Gordon….with McDreamy's hair."

"Wait…you heard us?" Eric appears overjoyed at this concept, but suddenly appears self-conscious as he considers this. "You heard everything?"

Adam looks up at his friend and smiles. "Mick has nothing on your rendition of Wild Horses." Eric's expression turns serious for a full minute before he simply nods and give a small smile. Adam turns to Lawrence, who is still struggling to maintain his composure. "Where's my camera?"

Eric rushes towards the closet and pulls out a familiar black bag. Adam can't help but smile as he see's it again. It feels like it's been years. He pushes himself to sit up however finds that it takes much more out of him than anticipated. Lawrence encourages him to rest, but Adam insists that he's slept long enough. Finally, propped up by pillows and the adjusted bed, Adam nods.

"Hand it over."

So much is a blur to Adam. Everything from the moment he walked away from Bobby until the first time he heard Lawrence's voice telling him not to give up. Lawrence told him not to give up, so he didn't.

Fuck the white light and the angels too. They can come back another day.

The simple snapshot, taken of his imperfectly perfect family huddled together in a hospital room to the backdrop of the Empire State Building, is his favorite of all the snapshots he has ever taken.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I do not own Lawrence, Adam, or Diana. I do lay claim to Eric though.

Author's Note: Well, it's been a long journey but here we are - the last chapter. After all the crap I put these guys through in this one I really couldn't resist giving them a perfect ending. So forgive me if it's a bit cliché. The song I listened to while writing this is called "Every Teardrop is a Waterfall" by Coldplay. I'm not usually a Coldplay fan but this song really hit home and I thought it was the perfect melody to write this chapter. Enjoy and thanks for sticking with me this far. :) After all, half the fun of writing is knowing that someone is reading your words. Can't wait to repay the favor and read all of your words too!

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There is nothing quite as extravagant and joyful as New Years Eve in New York City. It is the one night of the year when city dwellers from all walks of life make their way in packs towards one intersection packed to the seems with hopeful souls counting down the minutes to a brand new start. The world ends at midnight and begins again at twelve-oh-one when cynical overworked New Yorkers transform into a confident and unsullied version of themselves. Fire lights up the sky and music encapsulates those few blocks into a bubble of newness and prosperity happily shared by all who enter. Anger dissipates and all wrongs are forgiven as champaign toasts ring out and new and old lovers exchange kisses. For this one minute, the city is at peace. For sixty seconds, the living entity that is New York City smiles and embraces all of its inhabitants like old friends. It is a time for change and a time for changing back again. In that one minute the city becomes something else and, in this way, it represents the lives of every New Yorker in its midst.

Because with another year of life comes evolution and the living are always in the process of becoming.

The apartment is chilly this time of year. It is the one flaw about this beautiful rent controlled space that Lawrence has never been able to fix. The heat blasts throughout in burning waves and yet the breeze from the busy street below continues to drift through the seams of the patio door and creates the need for extra blankets and hot chocolate.

Hot chocolate that his daughter, their new friend, and the love of his life are currently enjoying in the next room. He never uses these labels, though, not individually that is. They are not separate people but a collaboration of something he has longed for and never quite succeeded in finding. Until now, that is.

"Uncle Eric, can I play? Please!" Lawrence smiles at the pleading voice of his eight year old. She has grown so much in the last year and, even with everything they have been through, seems happier than ever. He pulls four plates from the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet and listens as guitar strings are clumsily plucked to the tune of 'Jingle Bells'. Eric taught her that song for Christmas and she hasn't stopped playing it since.

"I don't know Eric, she may kick your ass at dueling banjos one day." Adam's voice sounds drowsy, but it often does lately. He is still recovering from his injuries many months later and it is truly his stubborn nature that has gotten him so far so fast. The physical therapy team at Lawrence's hospital were dumbfounded by the level of progress the top surgeons young boyfriend had made and how far he'd come since regaining consciousness. Of course there was plenty of other talk around the hospital as well. Everything from shock over Lawrence's seemingly sudden switch to homosexuality to the nurses cooing over how 'adorable' Adam was and how 'all the cute ones are always gay'. That one made Lawrence smile most of all. He finally had somebody in his life who he was truly proud to love and more than lucky to be loved by.

It still chokes him up when he thinks about how close he's come to losing him – and not just once.

"Yea, we'll just see about that, Mini Hendrix." Diana giggles and Lawrence smiles into the oven as he reaches in to pull out the newly cooked turkey. The extravagant dinner is Adam's request. He had still been in the hospital on Thanksgiving day and was surprisingly disappointed that they couldn't have a real family celebration. Adam had never been one for family traditions or holidays – at least not from what Lawrence knew of him. Suddenly, though, their little makeshift family is everything to the young man.

A year changes people, and Adam is no exception.

"Hey Diana, wanna sing the funny song I taught you?" The notes to Jingle Bells envelop the room and it's clear by the quality of playing that Eric has taken the guitar back. Soon it's Diana's young voice that belts out a familiar and yet unfamiliar song.

"Jingle balls! Daddy smells! Adam lost his spleen…"

The song is cut off with the thump of a pillow impacting someone's body. When Lawrence hears Diana laugh in conjunction with Eric's valiant girlish scream he knows who the shooter is.

"And I'm the bad influence?" Adam's sarcastic tone echoes above the sounds of the crowd cheering on the TV screen. It is just after eleven and the excitement for the coming year is building. "Lawrence! Eric is teaching Diana naughty songs…"

"Whoa…I don't know where your minds at kid but mine is strictly PG. Lawrence, may I suggest you start setting parental controls for Adam…."

"Parental controls my ass, Eric…"

"No actually, Adam, I think Larry controls your ass…"

Soon more pillow bombs are dropped and he hears Eric's high-pitched scream again as Adam and Diana pummel him with couch cushions.

Lawrence just shakes his head at their childish antics. It is like this around his apartment all the time now. If Adam isn't tripping over something or breaking all of Lawrence's breakables than it's Eric playing his guitar too loud or Diana and Adam arguing over who gets to control the TV remote. In one year he went from being a single man alone in a modest two bedroom to the most mature member of 'the scooby gang' as Diana has so fondly named their quadrant. He traded in his quiet and sanitary life for, well, a family.

Lawrence just sighs as he listens to the fight continue. All three of them try his patience at times, but he wouldn't trade them for anything.

Setting the rest of the food out on the counter, Lawrence looks through the doorway and into the living room to observe the damage. Sure enough, feathers are strewn about the room and all three of them look like they have been wrestling chickens. Lawrence considers checking on Adam, as the younger man often forgets how fragile he still is, but when they lock eyes and Adam flashes him that familiar playful grin he decides to let it go. Diana is sprawled across Adam's legs on the couch and laughing hysterically as Eric picks feathers out from between the strings of his guitar.

"Not cool guys, never mess with a man's guitar!" Eric speaks in the most serious tone he can muster, which only causes the other two to laugh harder, and it is only when Lawrence see's Adam visibly wince that his own smile drops. He leans against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Alright children, the food is ready. Diana, honey, why don't you take Eric and show him how you wash your hands before dinner."

"OK, Daddy!" She stands and reaches down to help Adam up. He looks at her, somewhat hesitantly, before taking her small hand and accepting the assistance with something that is clearly still very difficult for him. Diana has become so compassionate – a trait he suspects she picked up from Adam.

When Adam is up on two feet, Diana grabs Eric's arm and proceeds to drag him towards the bathroom, ignoring all of his grumbling protests. She continues to hum her new favorite song all of the way down the hallway. When they are out of sight, Lawrence looks back at Adam to find gray eyes staring at him full of something he can't quite describe.

"You feeling ok? Maybe you should lie down for awhile…we have some pain medication left in the bathroom.." The doctor in him takes over whenever he see's that pained look on Adam's face. Except the pained look has disappeared and Adam is now looking at him as if he were the only person in the entire world.

Adam shakes his head and looks down at a feather on the ground. He aimlessly pushes it around with his bare toes and this one act is enough to ease Lawrence's nerves completely. "I'm fine, Lawrence." He pauses and gives a modest smile. "Hell of a year, huh? Lost a spleen and with that a shred of dignity, gained an 8 year old midget who repeats everything I say good or…otherwise. Quit smoking…mainly because you can't really do that when you're in a fucking soap opera style coma. Still say we should trademark the coma cure by the way. A bat to the head and you'll be a new man…I can see the infomercial now." With the feather successfully moved across the floor, Adam looks back up and meets Lawrence's eyes again. This time, they are serious. He takes a shaky step forward and Lawrence meets his step with one of his own. "Oh yea, and I met this guy. Well, actually I knew him from when this really fucked up puppet kidnapped us…but that's another story. Anyway, he walks with a cane which is really fucking sexy in a Dr. House kind of way and the sex is phenomenal." He pauses to think and Lawrence feels a warm anticipation rush through his body. "You know what the best part is?"

"What's that?"

With another step forward they are practically nose-to-nose and it's killing Lawrence not to lean forward and kiss Adam with everything he has. Instead, he forces his hands to stay in his pockets and patiently waits for Adam to finish what he has to say. Adam takes a deep breath and breaks eye contact as he fiddles with his T-shirt nervously.

"I, um, finally figured out what people mean when they say they love each other. I never got it before. I always thought it was just some fucking exclusive club and, like usual, I couldn't even sneak in without getting my ass kicked and booted out by a steroid sucking bouncer. But, I think I get it now." He pauses and looks back up at Lawrence. His gray eyes are shining in a new kind of way and Lawrence loses all of his patience and leans forward, touching his forehead to Adams. His hands move down and grip Adams, forcing them to stop fidgeting and remain still. "I fucking get it, Lawrence."

With Adam's hands now still, Lawrence moves his own up and holds Adam's face between his palms. "I love you, Adam." He places a gentle kiss on Adam's lips and then moves back just enough to see his eyes again. He blinks a lot to hold back the tears that are threatening to break through. "And if you ever forget that, I'll remind you again and again…forever."

Adam's lips spread into a slow smile and Lawrence brushes the stray tears away with his thumbs. He places one last chaste kiss on Adam's lips before he hears Diana and Eric come up behind them.

"Jingle bells! Eric smells! Daddy's kissing Adam!"

He and Adam both turn to see Diana giggling fiercely and Eric leaning against the door frame, flashing a proud smile.

"Alright kids, don't make me get the hose again…"

They move away just enough to still be touching and Lawrence slips an arm around Adam's waste to support him. He looks back at Eric and points at him for emphasis. "Nu uh, not again. That was my best suit you ruined by the way, it took days to dry out."

He feels Adam's body vibrate with laughter before it moves away and only their fingers still connect them. Adam tugs Lawrence's arm in the direction of the kitchen.

"Enough talking…more stuffing our faces with the dead bird." Adam looks directly at Diana, the playful gleam returning. "First one to the kitchen gets to keep the turkey spleen!" He drops Lawrence's hand and he and Diana practically break the door frame trying to squeeze through at the same time.

Eric hangs out for a moment, staring at Lawrence, before walking towards him. In a rare moment of somber, he places his hand on Lawrence's shoulder and nods at him.

"You done good, Larry." He backs away and is almost in the kitchen before speaking again. "I, uh…" He gestures around him and shrugs. "You know?"

Lawrence nods. "You're welcome, Eric."

Lawrence stands back for a moment and listens to the chaos going on in his kitchen.

When he walks through that door he will be starting a new life with the man he loves more than anything, his precious daughter, and a new best friend.

His family.

It's starting to snow outside of his big patio door now -just in time to ring in the new year.

If he could go back and do it all over again, he wouldn't change a thing.


End file.
